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BY SAME AUTHOR: 


COMMON SENSE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 


A Manual of Practical Housewifery. By MARION Har- 
LAND, author of ‘* Alone,” &c. One vol. 12mo, 


THE SAME. Kitchen Edition. A decided novelty, 


the binding being water-proof and impervious to grease, 
A number of leaves of blank paper are inserted at the 
end of the book for convenience in inserting additional 


receipts, Price 
Sent postpaid on receipt of price by the Publishers, 
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, 


745 BROADWAY. NEW YORK. 


“COMMON SENSE IN THE HOUSEHOLD” SERIES 





BREAKFAST 


LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


BY 
MARION HARLAND, 


AUTHOR OF ‘‘ COMMON SENSE IN THE HOUSEHOLD.” 


TENTH THOUSAND. 


NEW YORK: 
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, 


SUCCESSORS TO 
SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO. 


Sis 
ENT go 





FAMILIAR TALKS. 


Familiar talk with the Reader—Introductory...... oe ces ageial: <2 8 
ad es Se YON ASUL GS ems oe pcos Yoee Ue 
‘“ “ ‘6  Croquettes...... hl hr er «2 1D 
6s 6 Reet FIDBUS DE WASUS bicwigsinc casescss 98 
rT “6 6 Gee Pie oe oy Pe EE 141 
66 rT orate LCN OOUo at iale ssw eieidaalce ss - 168 
66 6é ‘¢ What I know about Egg-beaters. 196 
“ ‘6 “oo Whinped: Cream. v0. o ccs oue 203 
rT 6 ‘¢ Concerning Allowances..... . 294 
« r nee Pri. 3 i..c58 cscceed 308 
6 6s ee PE MCAS 5 «cine cee 340.01? 0'F 306 
iT 6 0 to Parting Words. «3.5 ..+ A OEE So 
“6 “ “ 


Practical—or Utopian?........ 402 


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FAMILIAR TALK WITH THE READER. 


I snoutp be indeed flattered could I believe that you 
hail with as much pleasure as I do the renewal of the 
“ Common-Sense Talks,” to which I first invited you 
four years ago. For I have much to say to you in the 
same free-masonic, free-and-easy strain in which you 
indulged me then. 

It is a wild March night. Winter and Summer, 
Spring-time and Autumn, the wind sings, or plains at 
my sitting-room window. To-night its shout is less 
fierce than jocund to my ear, for it says, between the 
castanet passages of hail and sleet, that neither friend 
nor bore will interrupt our conference. Shutters and 
curtains are closed; the room is still, bright, and 
warm, and we are no longer strangers. 

The poorest man of my acquaintance counts his 
money by the million, has a superb mansion he calls 
“home,” a wife and beautiful children who call him 
“husband” and “father.” He has friends by the 
score, and admirers by the hundred, for human nature 
has not abated one jot in prudential sycophancy since 
the Psalmist summed up a voiume of satirical truth 
in the pretended “ aside”—“ and men will praise thee 
when thou doest well unto thyself.” For all that, he 
of whom I write is a pauper, inasmuch as; he makes 


2 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


his boast that he never experienced the emotion of 
gratitude. He has worked his own way in the world, 
he is wont to say: has never had helping hand from 
mortal man or woman. It is a part of his religion to 
pay for all he gets, and never to ask a favor. Never- 
theless, he confesses, with a complacent smirk that 
would be amusing were it not so pitiable an exhibition 
of his real beggary—* that he would like to know what 
it feels like to be grateful,—just for the sake of the 
novel sensation ! ” , 

Poor wretch! I am sorry I introduced him here and 
now. ‘There is a savage growl in the wind; our snug- 
gery is a trifle less pleasant since I began to talk of 
him. Although I only used him as a means of “lead- 
ing up” to the expression of my own exceeding and 
abundant wealth of gratitude to you, dear Reader and 
Friend. If I had only time and strength enough to— 
bear me through the full relation of the riches and 
happiness you have conferred upon me! There are 
letters in that desk over there between the windows 
that have caused me to look down with a sense of com- 
passionate superiority upon Nathan Rothschild and the 
Duke of Brunswick. I am too modest (or miserly) to 
show them; but now and then, when threatened with a 
fit of self-depreciation, I come in here, lock the door, 
stop the keyhole, get them out and read them anew. 
For three days thereafter I walk on air. For the re- 
frain of all is the same. “ You have been a help to 
me!” And only He who knows the depths, sad and 
silent, or rich and glad, of the human heart can 
understand how much I wanted to help you. Verily, I 
have in this matter had my reward. Again, I say, I 


FAMILIAR TALK WITIU THE READER. 3 


am grateful. Had I “helped” you a hundred times as 
well as I have, I should still be your debtor. 

May I read you somewhat copious extracts from a 
letter I received, the other day, from a wide-awake 
New England girl? Not only wide-awake, but re- 
fined, original and sprightly; a girl whom though I 
have never seen her face, I know to be a worker in 
life as well as a thinker. She says some things much 
better than I could have put them, and others as note- 
worthy, which I wish to answer,—or, try to answer— 
since I recognize in her a representative of a class, not 
very large, perhaps, but cértainly one of the most re- 
spectable and honored of all those for whom I write 
the ““Common-Sense Series.” I should like to give 
the letter in full, from the graphic touches with which 
she sketches herself, “sitting upon the kitchen-table, 
reading ‘Common Sense in the Household,” one bright 
morning, when herself and sisters had ein possession 
of the Iitchen to make preparation for “an old New 
England tea-party,” at which their only assistant was 
to be “a small maiden we keep to have the privilege 
of waiting upon, and doing our own work into the 
bargain ; who, in waiting at table, was never known 
to pass anything on the right side, and has an invinci- 
ble objection to learning how”’—to the conclusion, 
over against which she has, like the frank woman she 
is, set her name and address in full. 

But the modesty (or miserliness) aforesaid rises in 
sudden arms to forbid the reproduction at my hand 
of certain portions of the epistle, and it would be nei- 
ther kind nor honorable to set down in prospective 
print her pictures of home life and dramatis persone. 


a BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Steering clear, when possible, of these visible rocks 
and sunken reefs, I will indulge you and myself with 
a part of that which has added sensibly to my treasures 
—not debt—mind you! of gratitude. 

“T want to tell you how much your compilation 
does for those poor mortals whom it rescues from the 
usual class of cook-books.” 

A reef, you see, before we are out of harbor! We 
will skip two pages to get at one of the well-said 
things I spoke of just now. 

“You speak of ‘company china’ and ‘company 
manners. I detest company anything! This long- 
ing for show and display is the curse and failing of 
Americans. I abhor the phrase ‘Anything will do 
for us.’ I do not believe that a person can’be true 
clear through and without affectations who can put on 
her politeness with her company china any more than 
a real lady can deliberately put on stockings with holes 
in them. I seriously think that, so far from its being 
self-sacrifice to put up with the meanest every day, 
and hospitality to use the best for company, it is a posi- 
tive damage to one’s sense of moral fitness. I knew a 
woman once who used to surprise me with the decep- 
tions in which she unconsciously and needlessly indulged. 
This ceased to be a surprise when I saw her wear a 
twenty-dollar hat and a pair of unmended hose, and not 
seem to know that it was not quite the proper thing.” 

Orthodox, you perceive, thus far, is our New Eng- 
land correspondent. Honest and outspoken in her 
hatred of shams and “ dodges” of all kinds; quick to 
see analogies and deduce conclusions. Now comes the 
pith of the communication :— 


FAMILIAR TALK WITH THE READER. 5 


“ Y wish you could set me right on one point that often 
perplexes me. Js housekeeping worth while? Ido 
not despise the necessary work. On the contrary, I 
hold that anything well done is worth doing. But 
with the materials this country affords, can house- 
keeping be well done? Is it worth while fora woman 
to neglect the talents she has, and can use to her own 
and her friends’ advantage, in order to have a perfectly 
appointed house? to wear herself out chasing around 
after servants and children that things may be always 
done well, and at the stated time? Ihave seen so 
many women of brains wear out and die in harness, 
trying to do their self-imposed duty; to see that the 
large establishments their husbands’ wealth, position 
and wishes place in their care shall be perfect in de- 
tail. And these women could have been so happy and 
enjoyed the life they threw away, if they had only 
known how not to keep house. While, on the other 
hand, with a small income and one servant the matter 
is so much worse. Ishould not mind if one could ever 
say “It is a well-finished thing!” But you only 
finish one thing to begin over again, and so on, until 
you die and have nothing to show for your life’s work. 
It looks hopeless to me, I confess. I wish you would 
show me the wisdom—-or the folly of it all.” 

Now, I do not propose to show the folly of anything 
such as a girl that writes. She is a sincere inquirer 
after truth. When her letter came I tucked it under 
my inkstand, and said, “ There is a text ready-written, 
and in clerkly hand, for my next ‘ Familiar Talk!’ ” 
She is altogether too sensible and has too true a 
sense of humor to be offended when [ tell her, as I 


6 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


shall, that her lament over unfinished work reminded 
me comically of the story of the poor fellow who cut 
his throat, because, as he stated in his letter of explana- 
tion and farewell— He was tired of buttoning and 
unbuttoning!” There is a deal that is specious in the 
threadbare adage set forth in dolesome rhyme :— 
‘* Man's work is from sun to sun, 
But woman’s work is never done.” 

Nothing in this world, or in all time, is finished. Or, 
if finished, it is no¢ well with it. We hear this truth 
reiterated in every stroke of the artisan’s hammer, em- 
ployed—from the day he enters upon his apprentice- 
ship to that on which the withered hand can no longer, 
by reason of age, lift the ponderous emblem of his 
craft—in beating upon what looks to the observer of 
to-day like that which engaged him yesterday; which 
to the spectator of twenty to-morrows will seem the 
same as that which calls out the full strength of the 
brawny arm this hour. When he dies, who will care 
to chronicle the circumstance that he made, in the 
course of a long and busy life, forty thousand horse- 
shoes, or assisted in the manufacture of one thousand 
engine-boilers¢ We learn the same lesson from the 
patient eyes of the teacher while drilling one genera- 
tion after another in the details that are the tedious 
forging of the wards of the key of knowledge ;—-the 
rudiments of “the three R’s,” which, langh or groan 
as we may, must be committed to memories more or 
less reluctant. They were never, | am sure, “learned 
by heart.” It is well, so far as they are concerned, 
that the old phrase has gone out of fashion. We read 
the like tale of ever-renewed endeavor in the bent 


FAMILIAR TALK WITH THE READER. } 


brows and whitening locks of brain-toilers, the world 
over. Nature were a false teacher were this otherwise. 
Birth, maturity, death; first, the blade then the ear, 
and, after the full corn in the ear, ripening and de- 
struction for the good of man or beast, or decay in the 
earth. that resurrection may come to the buried seed. 
Seed-time and harvest, summer and winter,—none 
of these are “finished things.” Gop hold our eyes 
from seeing many things that are! 

A life, the major part of which is spent in sweeping, 
that the dust may re-settle; in washing, that clothes 
may be again worn and soiled; in cooking, that the 
food prepared may be consumed ; in cleansing plates 
and dishes, to put back upon the table that they may 
return, in grease and stickiness, to the hardly-dried 
pan and towel, does seem to the superficial spectator, 
_ignoble even for the wife of a struggling mechanic or 
ill-paid clerk. But 1 insist that the fault is not that 
Providence has made her a woman, but that Provi- 
dence has made and kept her poor. Her husband at 
his bench, or, rounding his shoulders over his ledger, 
has as valid cause of complaint of never done work. Is 
there any reason why he should stand more patiently 
in his lot, waiting to see what Gop the Lorp will do, 
than she ? 

But—“ Is it worth while for a woman to neglect the 
talents she has, and can use to her own and her friends’ 
advantage, in order to have a_perfectly-appointed 
house, ete ?” 

Certain visions that stir me to reverential admiration, 
arise before me, at that query. I see Emily Bronté 
reading German while she kneads the batch of home- 


8 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


made bread ; Charlotte, laying down the pen upon an 
unfinished page of Shirley, to steal into the kitchen 
when poor blind Tabby’s back is turned, and bear off 
the potatoes the superannuated servant insists upon 
peeling every day, that the “dainty fingers” may ex- 
tract the black “eyes” the faithful old creature cannot 
see. I see the Greek grammar fixed open in the rack 
above Elihu Burritt’s forge; and Sherman, reciting 
to himself by day over his lapstone and last, the lessons 
he learned at night after work-hours were over. I re- 
collect that the biographer of the “ marvellous boy ” 
has written of him—* Twelve hours he was chained to 
the office; ¢.¢., from eight in the morning until eight 
at night, the dinner-hour only excepted; and in the 
house he was confined to the kitchen ; slept with the 
foot-boy, and was subjected to indignities of a like 
nature. Yet here it was, during this life of base 
humiliation, that Thomas Chatterton worked: out the 
splendid creations of his imagination. In less than 
three years of the life of a poor attorney’s apprentice, 
fed in the kitchen and lodged with the foot-boy, did 
he here achieve an immortality such as the whole life 
of not one in millions is sufficient to create.” 

Note here, too, that Chatterton died of a broken 
heart; was not driven to suicide by hard work. 

Please be patient with me while I tell you of an in- 
cident that seems to me pretty, and comes in patly 
just at this point. 

I have a friend—my heart bounds with prideful 
pleasure while I call her such!—who is the most 
scholarly woman, and also the best housekeeper I 
know. She is, moreover, one of the sweetest of our 


FAMILIAR TALK WITH THE READER. 9 


native poets—one to whose genius and true woman- 
hood even royalty has done grateful honor ; a woman 
who ‘has used her’ every ‘talent to her own and her 
friends’ advantage’ in more ways than one. She had 
a call one day from a neighbor, an eminent professor, 
learned in dead and spoken tongues. In the passage 
of the conversation from trifles to weightier matters, 
it chanced that she differed in opinion from him upon 
two points. He refused to believe that potatoes could 
ever be made into a palatable sweet by any ingenuity 
of the culinary art, and he took exception to her 
rendering of a certain passage of Virgil. In the course 
of the afternoon he received from his fair neighbor a 
folded paper and a covered dish. Opening the former, 
he read a metrical translation of the disputed passage, 
so beautiful and striking he could no longer doubt that 
she had discovered the poet’s meaning more truly than 
had he. The dish contained a delicious potato custard. 

A foolscap page of rhymed thanks went back with 
the empty pudding-dish. It was mere doggerel, for 
the pundit was no poet, and meant his note for nothing 
more than jingle and fun, but his tribute of admira- 
tion was sincere. I forget the form of its expression, 
except that the concluding lines ran somewhat thus :— 

‘¢ From Virgil and potatoes, too, 
You bring forth treasures rich and new.” 

Am I harsh and unsympathetic when I say, that in 
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, if a woman has 
genuine talent, she will find time to improve it even 
amid the clatter of household machinery? I could 
multiply instances by the thousand to prove this, did 


time permit. 
1* 


10 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


But what of the poor rich woman who throws away 
her life in the vain endeavor to bring servants and 
children “up to time?” ‘Two things. First, she dies 
of worry, not of work—a distinction with a difference. 

Second, if she possess one-half enough strength of 
mind and strength of purpose to have made herself 
mistress of a single art or science, or sufficient tact to 
‘sustain her as a successful leader in society, or the de- 
gree of administrative ability requisite to enable her 
to conduct rightly a public enterprise of any note, be 
it benevolent, literary, or social, she ought to be com- 
petent to the government of her household ; to admin- 
ister domestic affairs with such wise energy as should 
insure order and punctuality without self-immolation. 

“Tf they have run with the footmen and they have 
wearied them, how shall they contend with horses ?” 

Let us look at this matter fairly, and without preju- 
dice on either side. I should contradict other of my writ- 
ten and spoken opinions; stultify myself beyond the re- 
covery of your respect or my own, were I to deny that 
more and wider avenues of occupation should be opened 
to woman than are now conceded as their right by the 
popular verdict. But not because the duties of the 
housewife are overburdensome or degrading. On the 
contrary, 1 would have forty trained cooks where there 
is now one; would make her who looketh diligently to 
the ways of her household worthy, as in Solomon’s day, 
of double honor. Of co-operative laundries I haye 
much hope. I would have washing-day become a tra- 
dition of the past to be shuddered over by every 
emancipated family in the land. In “co-operative 
housekeeping,” in the sense in which it is generally 


FAMILIAR TALK WITH THE READER, 11 


understood, I have scanty faith as a cure for the gen- 
eral untowardness of what my sprightly correspondent 
- styles ‘the materials this country affords.” Somebody 
must get the dinners and somebody superintend the 
getting-up of these. I honestly believe that the best 
method of reforming American domestic service and 
American cookery is by making the mistress of every 
home proficient in the art and a capable instructress 
of others. I know—no one better—how women who 
have never cared to beautify their own tables, or to 
study elegant variety in their bills of fare, who have 
railed at soups as “slops,’ and entrées as “ trash,” 
talk, after the year’s travel in foreign lands their hus- 
band’s earnings and their own pinching have gained 
for them. How they groan over native cookery and 
the bondage of native mistresses, and tell how cheaply 
and luxuriously one can live in dear Paris. 

“ Will the time ever come,” they cry, “when we, too, 
can sit at ease in our frescoed saloons surrounded by 
no end of artificial flowers and mirrors, and order our 
meals from a restaurant ?” 

To which I, from the depths of my home- oviie 
heart, reply, “ Hetven forbid! ” 

Have you ever thought how large a share the kitchen 
and dining-room have in forming the distinctive char- 
acteristics of the home? It is no marvel that the man 
who has had his dinners from an eating-house all his 
life should lack a word to describe that which sym- 
bolizes to the Anglo-Saxon all that is dearest and most 
sacred on earth. I avow, without a tinge of shame, 
that I soon tire, then sicken of restaurant and hotel 
dainties. I like the genuine wholesomeness of home-fare. 


12 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA, 


“Madame,” said a Frenchman whom I once met at 
an American watering-place, “one of my compatriots 
could produce one grand repast—one that should not 
want for the beautiful effects, with the contents of that 
pail—tub—bucket—of .what the peoples here call the 
svill,” pointing to a mass of dinner débris set. just with- 
out a side door. 

“Monsieur,” [ rejoined, with a grimace that matched 
his, “mot, ge navme pas le svill !” 

He was right, without doubt, in the implication that 
very much is thrown away as refuse which could be re- 
produced upon the table to the satisfaction and ad- 
vantage of host and guest. Perhaps my imagination 
was more to blame than he for my unlucky recollection 
of his countrywoman’s recommendation of a mayon- 
naise to a doubting guest: 

“You need not fear to partake, madame. ‘The fish 
has been preserved from putrefaction by a process of 
vinegar and charcoal!” 

It is a substantial comfort to the Anglo-Saxon 
stomach for its owner to know what he is eating. Call 
it prejudice, if you like, but it may have something to 
do with making one “true clear through,” as my 
Yankee girl puts it. 

“ But such poetic repasts!” sighs my travelled ac- 
quaintance. “Such heavenly garnishes, and flowers 
everywhere, and the loveliest side-dishes, and everything 
so exquisitely served! When I think of them, I abom- 
inate our great, vulgar joints and stiff dinner-tables! ” 

Yet Mrs. Nouveau Riche dawdles all the forenoon 
over a piece of tasteless embroidery, and gives the 
afternoon to gossip; while Bridget or Dinah prepares 


FAMILIAR TALK WITH THE READER. 13 


dinner, and serves it in accordance with her peculiar 
ideas of right and fitness. 

“Train American servants?” she says, in a transport 
of contemptuous incredulity at my suggestion that here 
is good missionary ground, “I have had enough of 
that! Just as soon as [ teach them the rudiments of 
decent cookery they carry off their knowledge to some- 
body else, trade for double wages from my neighbor 
upon what they have gained from me!” 

“ But,’ I remark, argumentatively, “do you not see, 
my dear lady, that so surely as ‘ten times one is ten,’ 
if all your neighbors were, in like manner, to instruct 
the servants who come to them and desert, so soon as 
they are taught their trade, the great work of securing 
wholesome and palatable cookery and tasteful serving 
would soon be an accomplished fact in your com- 
munity? and, by the natural spread of the leaven, the 
race of incompetent cooks and clumsy waiters would 
before long become extinct? Would it not be worth 
while for housekeepers to co-operate in the attempt to 
secure excellence in these departments instead of 
‘getting along somehow’ with ‘the materials’—~. e., 
servants—‘this country affords?’ Why not compel 
the country—wrong-headed abstraction that it is !—to 
afford us what we want? Would not the demand, thus 
enforced and persisted in, create a supply ?” 

“ Not in my day,” she retorts, illogically. “I don’t 
care to wear myself out for the benefit of posterity.” 

I do not gainsay the latter remark. If she had any 
desire that the days to come should be better than these, 
she would see to it that her daughters are rendered 
comparatively independent of the ungrateful caprices 


14 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


of the coming Celt or Teuton, or the ambitious vagaries 
of “the Nation’s Ward,” by a practical knowledge of 
housewifery. Perhaps she is deterred from undertak- 
ing their instruction by the forecast shadow of their 
desertion of the maternal abode for homes of their 
own. 

The prettiest thing that has ever been said of the 
informal “ talks” I had with you, my Reader, in for- 
mer days, was the too-flattering remark of a Syracuse 
(N. Y.) editor, that they were “like a breath of fresh 
air blowing across the ‘ heated term’ of the cook.” 

I quote it, partly that 1 may thank the author, prin- 
cipally that I may borrow the illustration. ‘The heay- 
enly airs that really temper the torrid heats of the 
kitchen are loving thoughts of those for whom the 
house-mother makes the home. There is a wealth of 
meaning in the homely old saying about “ putting one’s 
name in the pot.” It is one thing, I submit to the ad- 
vocates of co-operative housekeeping, whether big John’s 
and little John’s and Mamie’s and Susie’s and Tommy’s 
meals are prepared according to the prescriptions of a 
salaried chef, in the mammoth boilers, steamers and 
bakers of an “establishment” along with the suste- 
nance of fifty other families, or whether the tender 
mother, in her “order of the day,” remembers that 
while Papa likes smart, tingling dashes of cayenne, 
garlic, and curry, the baby-tongues of her brood would 
cry out at the same; that Mamie has an aversion to a 
dish much liked by her brothers and sisters; that Susie 
is delicate, and cannot digest the strong meat that is 
the gift of flesh and brains to the rest. So Papa gets 
his spiced ragout under a tiny cover—hot-and-hot--and 


FAMILIAR TALK WITH THE READER. 15 


the plainer “stew,” which was its base, nourishes the 
bairns. Mamie is not forced to fast while the rest 
feast, and by pale Susie’s plate is set the savory “sur- 
prise,” which is the visible expression of loving kind- 
ness, always wise and unforgetting. 

You remember the legend that tells how Elizabeth 
of Hungary, having been forbidden by her lord to 
carry food to the poor, was met one day by him out- 
side the castle walls, as she was bearing a lapful of 
meat and bread to her pensioners. Louis demanding 
sternly what she carried in her robe, she was obliged 
to show him the forbidden burden. ‘“ Whereupon,” 
says the chronicler, “the food was miraculously 
changed, for his eyes, to a lapful of roses, red-and- 
white, and, his mind disabused of suspicion, he gra- 
ciously bade her pass on whithersoever she would.” 

I have bethought me many times of the legend when 
I have seen upon very modest tables such proofs of 
thoughtful recollection of the peculiar tastes and needs of 
the flock to which the home caterer ministered as made 
my heart warm and eyes fill, and threw, to my imagi- 
nation, chaplets lovelier than Elizabeth’s roses around 
the platter and bowl. ‘This is the true poetry of serv- 
ing, and the loving appreciation of it is the reward, 
rich and all-sufficient, of thought, care, and toil. 

A few words more before we proceed, in due order, to 
business. This volume is not an amendment to “ General 
Receipts, No. 1 of the Common-Sense Series.” Still 
less is it intended as a substitute for it. 1 have care- 
fully avoided the repetition, in this volume, of a single 
receipt which appeared in that. This is designed to be 
the second story in the edifice of domestic economy, the 


16 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


materials of which I have accumulated since the first 
was completed. As money makes money, and a snow- 
ball gathers snow, so receipts, new, valuable, and curi- 
ous,eflowed in upon me after “ No. 1” was given to the 
world. Some of the earliest to reach me were so good 
that I began a fresh compilation by the time that 
book was fairly off the press. 

Let me say here what you may find useful in your 
own researches and collections. My best ally in the 
classification and preservation of the materials for 
this undertaking has been the “ The Household Treas- 
ury,’ published by Claxton, Remsen & Haffelfinger, 
Philadelphia, and arranged by a lady of that city. It 
is a pretty volume of blank pages, a certain number of 
which are devoted to each department of cookery, 
beginning with soups, and running through the various 
kinds of sweets, pickles, ete. Hach is introduced by a 
handsome vignette and appropriate motto, with a title 
at the top of every page. The paper is excellent and 
distinctly ruled. I wish I could put a copy into the 
hands of every housekeeper who believes in system 
of details, and development of her individual capabili- 
ties. It has so far simplified and lightened the task of 
preparing “Breakfast, Luncheon and Tea” for my 
public, that I cannot withhold this recommendation of 
it to others. 

Yet if “General Receipts” was written con amore, 
its successor has been, in a still higher degree, a work of 
love and delight. There were times during the prepa- 
ration of the trial volume when I could not feel quite 
sure of my audience. There has not been a moment, since 
I began that which I now offer for your acceptance, in the 


# 
FAMILIAR TALK WITH THE READER, 1% 


which I have not been conscious of your full sympathy ; 
have not tasted, in anticipation, your enjoyment of that 
which I have taken such pleasure in making ready. 

Do not think me sentimental when I ask that the 
Maltese cross, marking, as in the former work, such 
receipts as I have tested and proved for myself to be 
veliable, may be to you, dear friend and sister, like the 
footprint of a fellow-traveler along the humble but 
honorable pathway of every-day and practical life, 
bringing comfort and encouragement, even in the 
“heated term.” 


EGGS. 





“Give me half-a-dozen eggs, a few spoonfuls of 
gravy and as much cream, with a spoonful of butter 
and a handful of bread crumbs, and I can get up a 
good breakfast or luncheon,” said a housekeeper to me 
once, in a modest boastfulness that became her well, 
in my eyes. 

For I had sat often at her elegant, but frugal board, 
and I knew she spoke the truth. 

“Elegant and frugal!” I shall have more hope of 
American housewives when they learn to have faith in 
this combination of adjectives. Nothing has moved me 
more strongly to the preparation of this work than the 
desire to convert them to the belief that the two are 
not incompatible or inharmonious. Under no head can 
practice in the endeavor to conform these, the one to 
the other, be more easily and sateen pursued 
than under that which begins this section. 

ges at sixty cents per dozen (and they are seldom 
higher than this price) are the cheapest food for the 
breakfast or lunch-table of a private family. They are 
nutritious, popular, and never (if we except the cases 
of omelettes, thickened with uncooked flour, and fried 
egos, drenched with fat) an unelegant or homely dish. 


EGGS. 19 


Eees Sur te Prat. efe 


6 eggs. 

1 table-spoonful of butter or nice dripping. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Melt the butter on a stone-china, or tin plate, or 
shallow baking-dish. Break the eggs carefully into 
this; dust lightly with pepper and salt, and put ina 
moderate oven until the whites are well “ set.” 

Serve in the dish in which they were baked. 


Toastep Eaas. 


Cover the bottom of an earthenware or stone-china 
dish with rounds of delicately toasted bread. Or, what 
is even better, with rounds of stale bread dipped in 
beaten egg and fried quickly in butter or nice drip- 
ping, to a golden-brown. Break an egg carefully 
upon each, and set the dish immediately in front of, 
and on a level with a glowing fire. ‘Toast over this 
as many slices of fat corned pork or ham as there are 
egos in the dish, holding the meat so that it will fry 
very quickly, and all the dripping fall upon the eggs. 
When these are well “set,” and a crust begins to form 
upon the top of each, they are done. Turn the dish 
several times while toasting the meat, that the eggs 
may be equally cooked. 

Do not send the fried pork to table, but pepper the 
egos lightly and remove with the toast, to the dish in 
which they are to go to the table, with a cake-turner 
or flat ladle, taking care not to break them. 


20 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Baxep Eaes. (No. 1.) 

6 egos. 

4 tablespoonfuls good gravy 
The latter is particularly nice 
1 handful bread-crumbs. 

6 rounds buttered toast or fried bread. 

Put the gravy into a shallow baking-dish. Break 
the eggs into this, pepper and salt them, and strew the 
bread-crumbs over them. Bake for five minutes in a 
quick oven. Take up the eggs carefully, one by one, 
and lay upon the toast which must be arranged on a 
hot, flat dish. Add a little cream, and, if you like, 
some very finely-chopped parsley and onion, to the 
gravy left in the baking-dish, and turn it into a sauce- 
pan. Boil up once quickly, and pour over the eggs. 





veal, beef or poultry. 


Baxep Kaas. (No. 2.) of 

6 eggs. 

1 cup of chicken, game, or veal gravy. 

1 teaspoonful mixed parsley and onion, chopped 
fine. 

1 handful very fine bread-crumbs. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Pour enough gravy into a neat baking-dish to cover 
the bottom well, and mix with the rest the parsley and 
onion. Set the dish in the oven until the gravy begins 
to hiss and bubble, when break the eggs into it, so that 
they do not crowd one another. Strew bread-crumbs 
thickly over them, pepper and salt, and return to the 
oven for three minutes longer. Then pour the rest of 
the gravy, which should be hot, over the whole. More 


EGGS. 1 


bread-crumbs, as fine as dust, and bake until the egys 
rare “set.” 

Send to table in the baking-dish. 

This dish will be found very savory. 


FRricassEED Kaas. -f«_ 


6 hard-boiled eggs. When cold, slice with a sharp 
knife, taking care not to break the yolk. 

1 cup good broth, well seasoned with pepper, salt, 
parsley and a suspicion of onion. 

Some rounds stale bread, fried to a light-brown in 
butter or nice dripping. 

Put the broth on the fire in asaucepan with the sea- 
soning and let it come toa boil. Rub the slices of egg 
with melted butter, then roll them in flour. Lay them 
gently in the gravy and let this become smoking hot 
upon the side of the range, but do not let it actually 
boil, lest the eggs should break. They should lie thus 
in the gravy for at least five minutes. Have ready, 
upon a platter, the fried bread. Lay the sliced egg 
evenly upon this, pour the gravy over all, and serve 
hot. 


Eea Cur ets. ef 


6 hard-boiled eggs. 

1 raw ege well-beaten. 

1 handful very fine, dry bread-crumbs. 

Pepper and salt, and a little parsley minced fine. 

3 table-spoonfuls butter or dripping. 

1 cup broth, or drawn butter, in which a raw egg 
has been beaten. 

Cut the boiled eggs when perfectly cold, into rather 


23 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TRA. 


thick slices with a sharp, thin knife; dip each slice 
into the beaten egg; roll in the bread-erumbs which 
should be seasoned with pepper, salt and minced pars- 
ley. Fry them to a light-brown in the butter or drip- 
ping, turning each piece as it is done on the under 
side. Do not let them lie in the frying-pan an instant 
after they are cooked. Drain free from fat before lay- 
ing them on a hot dish. Pour the gravy, boiling hot, 
over the eggs, and send to table. 


St1rrRED Haas. »fe 

6 egos. 

3 table-spoonfuls of gravy—that made from poultry 
is best. 

Enough fried toast, from which the crust has been 
pared, to cover the bottom of a flat dish. 

A very little anchovy paste. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

Melt the butter in a frying-pan, and when hot, break 
into this the eggs. Stir in the gravy, pepper and salt 
to taste, and continue to stir very quickly, and well up 
from the bottom, for about two minutes, or until the 
whole is a soft, yellow mass. Have ready in a flat dish 
the fried toast, spread thinly with anchovy paste. 

Heap the stirred egg upon this, and serve before it 
has time to harden. 


ScaLLoreD Kees (Zaw). of 
6 eggs. 
4 or 5 table-spoonfuls of ground or minced ham. 
A. little chopped parsley. 
A. very little minced onion. 


EGGS. | 


2 great spoonfuls of cream, and 1 of melted butter. 

Salt and pepper to taste. 

% cup of bread-crumbs moistened with milk and a 
spoonful of melted butter. 

Line the bottom of a small deep dish, well-buttered, 
with the soaked bread-crumbs; put upon these a layer 
of chopped ham, seasoned with the onion and parsley. 
Set these in the oven, closely covered, until they are 
smoking hot. Meanwhile, beat up the eggs to a stiff 
froth, season with pepper and salt, stir in the cream 
and a spoonful of melted butter, and pour evenly upon 
the layer of ham. Put the dish, uncovered, back into the 
oven, and bake five minutes, or until the eggs are 
cc Set." ‘ 


ScattopeD Eaes (fHard-boiled). va 


6 egos boiled, and when cold, cut into thin slices. 

1 cupful fine bread-crumbs, well moistened with a 
little good gravy and a little milk or cream. 

4 cup thick drawn butter, into which has been beaten 
the yolk of an egg. 

1 small cupful minced ham, tongue, poultry, or cold 
halibut, salmon, or cod. 

Pepper aud salt to taste. 

Put a layer of moistened crumbs in the bottom of a 
buttered baking-dish. On this lay the sliced eggs, 
each piece of which must have been dipped in the 
thick drawn butter. Sprinkle the ground meat over 
these, cover with another layer of bread-crumbs, and 
proceed in like manner, until the egg is all used up. 
Sift on the top a good layer of dry bread-crumbs. 
Cover the dish with an inverted plate, until the con- 


24 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


tents are heated through, then remove the plate, and 
brown the top upon the upper grating of the oven. 


Wurrtep Kaas. 

6 eggs. 

1 quart of boiling water. 

Some thin slices of buttered toast. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

_ A table-spoonful of butter. 

Put the water, slightly salted, in a saucepan over 
the fire, and keep it at a fast boil. Stir with a wooden 
spoon or ladle in one direction until it whirls rapidly. 
Break the eggs, one at a time, into a cup, and drop 
each carefully into the centre, or vortex of the boiling 
whirlpool, which must be kept in rapid motion until 
the egg is a soft, round ball. Take it out carefully 
with a perforated spoon, and put it on a slice of but- 
tered toast laid upon a hot dish. Puta bit of butter 
on the top. Set the dish in the oven to keep it warm, 
and proceed in the same way with each egg, having 
but one at a time in the saucepan. When all are done, 
dust lightly with salt and pepper, and send up hod. 


PoacuEep Eaes & la Bonne Hemme. 


6 eggs. 

1 teaspoonful of vinegar. 

4 cup nice veal or chicken broth. 

Salt and pepper to taste. 

4 cup butter or dripping. 

Rounds of stale bread, and the beaten yolks of two 
raw ees. 

Prepare the bread first by cutting it into rather 


EGGS. 95 


large rounds, and, with a smaller cutter, marking an 
inner round on each, leaving a narrow rim or wall 
on the outside. Excavate this cautiously, not to break 
the bottom of the cup thus indicated, which should 
be three-quarters of an inch deep. Dip each round 
thus prepared in the beaten egg, and fry quickly 
to a yellow-brown in hot butter or dripping. Put in 
order upon a flat dish, and set in the open oven while 
you poach the eggs. 

Pour about a quart of boiling water into a deep 
saucepan. Salt slightly, and add the vinegar. Break 
the eggs into a saucer, one at a time, and, when the 
water is at a hard boil, slide them singly into the 
saucepan. If the yolk be broken in putting it in, the 
effect of the dish is spoiled. When the whites begin 
to curdle around the edges, lessen the heat, and cook 
slowly until they are firm enough to bear removal. 
Take them out with a perforated skimmer, trim each 
dexterously into a neat round, and lay within the 
bread-cup described above. When all are in their 
places, pour over them the gravy, which should be well 
seasoned and boiling hot. 


Eaes Poacnep wirn Mousurooms. ef< 


6 eggs. 
1 tea-cupful of cold chicken or other fowl, minced 


fine. 
2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 
About a cupful of good gravy,—veal or poultry. 
2 dozen mushrooms of fair size, sliced. 
Some rounds of fried bread. 
1 raw egg beaten light. 
2 


26 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


Mince the cold meat very fine and work into it the 
butter, with the beaten egg. Season with pepper and 
salt, and stir it over the fire in a saucepan until it is 
smoking-hot. Poach the eggs as in preceding receipt, 
and trim off the ragged edges. The fried bread must 
be arranged upon a hot, flat dish, the mince of chicken 
on this, and the eggs upon the chicken. Have ready 
in another saucepan the sliced mushrooms and gravy. 
Ii you use the French champignons—canned—they 
should have simmered in the gravy fifteen minutes. If 
fresh ones, you should have parboiled them in clean 
water as long, before they are sliced into the gravy, 
and stewed ten minutes in it. The gravy must be 
savory, rich and rather highly seasoned. Pour it very 
hot upon the eggs. 

If you will try this receipt, oa that for “Eggs & la 
bonne femme” for yourself, your family and your guests 
will be grateful to you, and you to the writer. 


Ancuovy Toast wit Kags. 

6 egos 

1 cupful drawn butter—drawn in milk. 

Some rounds of stale bread, toasted and buttered. 

A little anchovy paste. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Spread the buttered toast thinly with anchovy paste, 
and with this cover the bottom of a flat dish. Heat 
the drawn butter to boiling in a tin vessel set in 
another of hot water, and stir into this the eggs beaten 
very light. Season to taste, and heat—stirring ail the 
time—until they form a thick sauce, but do not let them 
boil. Pour over the toast, and send to table very hot. 


EGGS. QT 


Forcempat Egos. >}< 


6 eggs boiled hard. 

1 cupful minced chicken, veal, ham or tongue. 

1 cupful of rich gravy. 

4 cupful bread-crumbs. 

2 tea-spoonfuls mixed parsley, onion, summer savory 
or sweet marjoram, chopped fine. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

1 raw egg beaten light. 

While the eggs are boiling, make the forcemeat by 
mixing the minced meat, bread-crumbs, herbs, pepper 
and salt together, and working well into this the beaten 
raw egg. When the eggs are boiled hard, drop for a 
minute into cold water to loosen the shells. Break 
these away carefully. With a sharp knife divide each 
ege into halves; cut a piece of the white off at each 
end (that they may stand firmly when dished), and coat 
them thickly with the forcemeat. Brown them by set- 
ting them in a tin plate on the upper grating of a very 
hot oven, and heap neatly upon a hot dish. Pour the 
boiling gravy, in which a little lemon-juice has been 
squeezed at the last, over them. 


A Hen’s Nzst. >/ 


- 6 or 8 eggs boiled hard. 

1 cup minced chicken, or other fowl, ham, tongue, 
or, if more convenient, any cold firm fh, 

1 cup of drawn butter into which have been stirred 
two or three table-spoonfuls of good gravy and a tea- 
spoonful of chopped parsley. . 

When the eggs are quite cold and firm, cut the 


28 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


whites from the yolks in long thin strips, or-shavings, 
and set them aside to warm in a very gentle oven, 
buttering them, now and then, while you prepare the 
rest. 

Pound the minced meat or fish very fine in a Wedge- 
wood mortar, mixing in, as you go on, the yolks of the: 
egos, the parsley, and pepper and salt to taste. When 
all are reduced to a smooth paste, mould with your 
hands into small, egg-shaped balls. Heap in the centre 
of a dish, arrange the shred eggs around them, in 
imitation of a nest, and pour over all the hot sauce. 

A simple and delightful relish. 


OMELETTES. 


For omelettes of various kinds, please see “ Common 
Sense in the Household, No. 1,” page 259. 


FISH. 
ENTREES AND RELISHES OF FISH. 
Wuat To po wirn Corp Fisu. »/ 


1 cup drawn butter with an egg beaten in. 

2 hard-boiled eggs. 

Mashed potato—(a cupful will do.) 

1 cupful cold fish—cod, halibut or shad. 

Roe of cod or shad, and 1 table-spoonful of butter. 

1 teaspoonful minced parsley. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Dry the roe, previously well boiled. ° Mince the fish 
fine, and season. Work up the roe with butter and the 
yolks of the boiled eggs. Cut the white into thin 
rings. Puta layer of mashed potato at the bottom of 
a buttered deep dish—then, alternate layers of fish, 
drawn butter (with the rings of white embedded in 
this), roe,—more potato at top. Cover the dish and set 
in a moderate oven until it smokes and_ bubbles. 
Brown by removing the cover for a few minutes. 
Send to table in the baking-dish, and pass pickles 
with it. 


Friep Roxs or Cop or SHAp. > 


2 or three roes. If large, cut them in two. 
1 pint of boiling water. 
1 table-spoonful of vinegar. 


30 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Salt and pepper. 

1 raw egg, well beaten. 

4 cup fine bread-crumbs. 

3 table-spoonfuls sweet lard, or dripping. 

Wash the roes and dry with a soft, clean cloth. 
Have ready the boiling water in which should be put 
the vinegar, salt, and pepper. Boil the roes in this 
for ten minutes, then plunge at once into very cold 
water, slightly salted. Wipe dry again; when they 
have lain about two minutes in this, roll in the beaten 
egg, then the bread-crumbs, and fry to’a fine brown in 
the fat. 

Sauce for the above. 

1 cup drawn butter, into which beat a teaspoonful 
of anchovy sauce, juice of half a lemon, and a pinch 
of cayenne pepper, with a little minced parsley. Boil 
up once, and send around in a gravy-boat. 


Roxrs or Cop or Suap Srewep. 

Wash the roes, and parboil in water with a little 
vinegar, pepper, and salt added. It should be at a 
hard boil when the roes go in. Boil five minutes, lay 
in very cold water for two, wipe, and transfer to a 
clean saucepan, with enough melted butter to half 
cover them. Set it in a vessel of boiling water, cover 
closely, and let it stew gently ten minutes. Should it 
boil too fast the roes will shrink and toughen. While 
they are stewing prepare the— 

Sauce. 

1 cup of boiling water. 

2 teaspoonfuls corn-starch, or rice flour, mixed in 
cold water. 


FISH. ; 31 


1 table-spoonful of butter. 

1 teaspoonful chopped parsley. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce, or good catsup. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

Beaten yolks of two eggs. 

Salt and cayenne pepper. 

Stir the corn-starch smoothly into the boiling water, 
and set it over the fire, stirring constantly until it pale 
ens up well. Add pepper, salt, butter, and parsley ; 
mix well together, put in the lemon-juice and catsup, 
lastly the roes, which should have been frequently 
turned in the melted butter. Set within a vessel of 
boiling water for about eight minutes, but do not let 
the roes and sauce boil fast. Take them up, lay ona 
flat, hot dish ; add to the sauce the beaten yolks, stir 
fast and well over the fire for two minutes, pour over 
the roes, and serve. 

Should the receipt for so simple a dish seem need- 
lessly prolix, I beg the reader to remember that I have 
made it minute to save her time and trouble. 


SCALLOPED Rtozs. ef. 


3 large roes. 

1 cup of drawn butter and yolks of 3 hard-boiled 
eggs. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy paste or essence. 

1 teaspoonful of parsley. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

1 cup of bread-crumbs. 

Salt and cayenne pepper to taste. 

Boil the roes in water and vinegar, as directed in 
former receipts; lay in cold water five minutes, then 


82 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


wipe perfectly dry. Break them up with the back of 
a silver spoon, or in a Wedgewood mortar, but not so 
fine as to crush the eggs. When ready, they should be 
a granulated heap. Set aside while you pound the 
hard-boiled eggs to a powder. Beat this into the 
drawn butter, then the parsley and other seasoning; 
lastly, mix in, more lightly, the roes. Strew the bottom 
of a buttered dish with bread-crumbs, put in the mix- 
ture, spread evenly, and cover with very fine crumbs. 
Stick bits of butter thickly over the top, cover and 
bake in a quick oven, until bubbling hot. Brown, un- 
covered, on the upper grating of the oven. 


Fisa-Baus. >} 


2 cupfuls cold boiled cod—fresh or salted. 

1 cupful mashed potato. 

4 cup drawn butter, with an egg beaten in. 

Season to taste. 

Chop the fish when you have freed it of bones and 
skin. Work in the potato, and moisten with the drawn 
butter until it is soft enough to mould, and will yet 
keep in shape. Moll: the balls in flour, and fry 
quickly tc a golden-brown in lard, or clean dripping. 
Take from the fat so soon as they are done; lay in a 
cullender or sieve and shake gently, to free them from 
every drop of grease. Turn out for a moment on 
white paper to absorb any lingering drops, and send 
uy on a hot dish. 

A pretty way of serving them is to line the dish 
with clean, white paper, and edge this with a frill of 
colored tissue paper—green or pink. This makes orna- 
mental that which is usually considered a homely dish. 


FISH. 33 


_Stewep Eens é@ 7 Allemande. 


1 cup of boiling water. 

1 cup rather weak vinegar. 

1 small onion, chopped fine. 

A pinch of cayenne pepper. 

4 saltspoonful mace. 

1 saltspoonful salt. 

About 2 pounds of eels. 

8 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 

Chopped parsley to taste. 

Make a liquor in which to boil the eels, of the 
vinegar, water, onion, pepper, salt and mace. Boil— 
closely covered—fifteen minutes, when strain and put 
in the eels, which should be cleaned carefully and cut 
into pieces less than a finger long. Boil gently nearly 
an hour. Take them up, drain dry, and put into a 
sauce made of melted butter and chopped parsley. 
Set the vessel containing them in another of hot water, 
and bring eels and sauce to the boiling point, then 
serve in a deep dish. 


Eets Stewep d@ 2 Americain. >} 


3 pounds eels, skinned and cleaned, and all the fat 
removed from the inside. 

1 young onion, chopped fine. 

4 table- Bicortals of butter. 

Pepper and salt to taste, with chopped parsley. 

Cut the eels in pieces about two inches in length ; 
season, and lay in a saucepan containing the melted 
butter. Strew the onion and parsley over all, cover 
the Sey ren (or tin pail, if more convenient) closely, 


34 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


and set ina pot of cold water. Bring this gradually to 
a boil, then cook very gently for an hour and a half, 
or until the eels are tender. Turn out into a deep dish. 

There is no more palatable preparation of eels than 
this, in the opinion of most of those who have eaten it. 


F RIcAsSsEED EELS. 


3 pounds fresh eels, skinned, cleaned, and cut into 
pieces about two inches long. 

1 small onion, sliced. 

Enough butter, or good dripping, to fry the eels. 

1 cup good beef or veal gravy, from which the fat 
has been skimmed. Season with wine, catsup and 
lemon-juice. 

Pepper and salt with minced Pe for seasoning. 

A little flour. 

Flour the eels and fry in the dripping, or butter, un- 
til brown. Take them out and set aside to cool while 
you fry the sliced onion in the same fat. Drain this, 
also the eels, from every drop of grease. When the 
eels are almost cold, lay them in the bottom of a tin 
pail or farina-kettle, sprinkle the onion, parsley and 
other seasoning over them. Add to your gravy a little 
anchovy sauce, or flavorous catsup; the juice of half a 
lemon, and a glass of brown sherry. Pour over the 
eels, cover closely, and set in a pot of warm water. 
Bring to a gentle boil and simmer, after the contents 
of the inner vesstl are heated chuonae about twenty 
minutes. Too much, or hard cooking, will spoil 
them. 


Serve upon a chafing-dish. 


FISH. 35 


Cuttets or Harrputr, Cop or Saxmon. fa 


3 pounds fish, cut in slices three-quarters of an inch 
thick, from the body of the fish. 

A handful of fine bread-crumbs, with which should 
be mixed pepper and salt with a little minced parsley. 

1 ege beaten light. 

Enough butter, lard or dripping to fry the cutlets. 

Cut each slice of fish into strips as wide as your two 
fingers. Dry them with a clean cloth; rub lightly 
with salt and pepper; dip in the egg, then the bread- 
crumbs, and fry in enough fat to cover them well. 
Drain away every drop of fat, and lay upon hot white 
paper, lining a heated dish. 


Cutters or Cop, Harreur or Saumon @ la reine. 


Prepare the fish as in the last receipt until after fry- 
ing it, when have ready the following sauce: 

1 cup strong brown gravy—beef or veal. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce or mushroom catsup. 

Pepper, salt, a pinch of parsley and a very little 
minced onion. 

1 glass brown sherry and juice of half a lemon. 

Thicken with browned flour. 

Lay the fried cutlets evenly in a broad saucepan 
with atop, cover with the gravy and heat slowly all 
through, but do not let them boil. ‘Take up the cutlets 
with care, and arrange upon a chafing-dish. Pour the 
gravy over them. 

These are very nice, and well worth the additional 
trouble it may cost to prepare the sauce. 


36 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Baxep Cop or Hattsvr. >} 


A piece of fish from the middle of the back, weigh- 
ing four, five or six pounds. 

A cupful of bread-crumbs, peppered and salted. 

2 table-spoonfuls dozed salt pork, finely chopped. 

A table-spoonful chopped parsley, sweet marjoram 
and thyme, with a mere suspicion of minced onion. 

1 teaspoonfyl anchovy sauce, or Harvey’s, if you 
prefer it. 

4 cupful drawn butter. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

1 beaten egg. 

Lay the fish in very cold salt-and-water for two hours; 
wipe dry; make deep gashes in both sides at right 
angles with the back-bone and rub into these, as well as 
coat it all over with a force-meat made of the crumbs, 
pork, herbs, onion and seasoning, bound with raw egg. 
Lay in the baking-pan and pour over it the drawn butter 
(which should be quite thin), seasoned with the anchovy 
sauce, lemon-juice, pepper and a pinch of parsley. 
Bake in a moderate oven nearly an hour,—quite as 
long if the piece be large, basting frequently lest it 
should brown too fast. Add a little butter-and-water 
when the sauce thickens too much. When the fish is. 
done, remove to a hot dish, and strain the gravy over it. 

A few capers or chopped green pickles are a pee 
ant addition to the gravy. 


Baxep Satmon wira Orram Savoz. -f 


A middle cut of salmon. 
4 table-spoonfuls of butter melted in hot water. 


FISH. OL 


Butter a sheet of foolscap paper on both sides, and 
wrap the fish up in it, pinning the ends securely to- | 
gether. Lay in the baking-pan, and pour six or seven 
spoonfuls of butter-and-water over it. Turn another 
pan over all, and steam in a moderate oven from three- 
quarters of an hour to an hour, lifting the cover, from 
time to time, to baste and assure yourself that the paper 
is not burning. Meanwhile, have ready in a saucepan 
a cup of cream, in which you would do well to dissolve 
a bit of soda a little larger than a pea. This is a wise 
precaution whenever cream is to be boiled. Heat this 
in a vessel placed within another of hot water; thicken 
with a heaping teaspoonful of corn starch, add a table- 
spoonful of butter, pepper and salt to taste, a liberal 
pinch of minced parsley, and when the fish is unwrap- 
ped and dished, pour half slowly over it, sending the 
rest to table in a boat. If you have no cream, use 
milk, and add a beaten egg to the thickening. 


SALMon STEAKS oR CuTLeErs (FRIED). 


Cut slices from the middle of the fish, an inch 
thick. 

1 table-spoonful butter to each slice, for frying. 

Beaten egg and fine cracker crumbs, powdered to 
dust, and peppered with cayenne. 

Wipe the fish dry, and salt slightly. Dip in egg, 
then in cracker crumbs, fry very quickly in hot butter. 
Drain off every drop of grease, and serve upon a dish 
lined with hot, clean paper, fringed at the ends. 

Sprinkle green parsley in bunches over it. 

The French use the best salad-oil in this receipt, in- 
stead of butter. 


38 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Satmon STEAKS OR CUTLETS (BROILED). 


Three or four slices of salmon. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

$4 cup drawn butter, thickened with browned flour, 
and seasoned with tomato catsup. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Rub the steaks with the butter, pepper and salt 
slightly. Broil upon a gridiron over a very clear fire, 
turning often, and rubbing each side with butter as it 
comes uppermost. When nicely browned, lay on a 
hot dish, and pour the sauce over them. 


SatmMon CurLETs EN PAPILLOTE, 


Dry and lay in melted butter ten minutes. Dust 
lightly with cayenne pepper, and wrap securely in well 
buttered or oiled white paper, stitching down the ends 
of each cover. Fry in nice dripping or sweet lard. 
They will be done in ten minutes, unless very thick. 
Have ready clean, hot papers, fringed at both ends. 
Clip the threads of the soiled ones when you have 
drained them free from fat, slip dexterously and quickly, 
lest they cool in the process, into the fresh covers, . 
give the fringed ends a twist, and send up on a 
heated dish. 

Salmon en papillote is also broiled by experts. If 
you attempt this, be careful that the paper is so well 
greased and the cutlets turned so often that it does not 
scorch. The least taste of burnt paper ruins the flavor 
of the fish, which it is the object of the cover to pre- 
serve. 


FISH. 39 


Satmon in A Moutp. (Very good.) 


1 can preserved salmon or an equal amount of cold, 
left from a company dish of roast or boiled. 

4 eggs beaten light. 

4 table-spoonfuls butter—melted, but not hot. 

% cup fine bread-crumbs. 

Season with pepper, salt and minced parsley. 

Chop the fish fine, then rub it in a Wedgewood mor- 
tar, or in a bowl with the back of a silver spoon, 
adding the butter until it is a smooth paste. Beat the 
bread-crumbs into the eggs and season before working 
all together. Put into a buttered pudding-mould,.and 
boil or steam for an hour. 


Sauce for the Above. 


1 cupful milk heated to a boil, and thickened with a 
table-spoonful corn-starch. 

The liquor from the canned salmon, or if you have 
none, double the quantity of butter. 

1 great spoonful of butter. 

1 raw egg. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy, or mushroom, or tomato 
catsup. 

1 pinch of mace and one of cayenne. 

Put the egg in last and very carefully, boil one 
minute to cook it, and when the pudding ‘is turned from 
the mould, pour over it. Cut in slices at table. 

A nice supper-dish. 


STEWED SALMON. »}« 


1 can preserved fresh salmon, or remains of roast or 
boiled. 


40. BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 cup drawn butter. 

2 eggs well beaten. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy or Harvey’s sauce. 

Cayenne and salt to taste. 

2 hard-boiled eggs, chopped fine. 

Some capers or minced green pickles. 

Stew the salmon in the can liquor, or a very little 
water, slightly salted, ten minutes. Have ready, in a _ 
larger saucepan, the drawn butter thickened with rice- 
flour or corn-starch. Season and stir in cautiously the 
beaten raw eggs, then the salmon. Let it come to a 
gentle boil, add the chopped eggs and pickles and turn 
into a covered deep dish. 

Or— 

Add the hard-boiled eggs and capers to the salmon, 
with a table-spoonful of butter, toss up lightly with a 
fork, pepper slightly, and heap in the centre of a hot 
flat dish, then pour the boiling sauce over all. 

It is very appetizing served in either way. 


MAYoNNAISE OF SALMON. 


If you use canned salmon, drain it very dry and pick 
into coarse flakes with a silver fork. If the remnants 
of roast or boiled fish, remove all bits of bone, skin 
and fat, and pick to pieces in the same way. 

1 bunch of celery, or 2 heads of lettuce. 


For Dressing. 


1 cup boiling water. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch. 

2 table-spoonfuls best salad-oil. 
1 teaspoonful made mustard. 


FISH. ) 41 


% cup vinegar. 

1 small teaspoonful Wiaek pepper, or half as much 
cayenne. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

2 raw eggs—yolks only,—beaten light. 

2 hard-boiled eggs, yolks only. 

2 teaspoonfuls powdered sugar. 

Wet the corn-starch with cold water and stir into the 
boiling water until it thickens well; add half of pep- 
per, salt, sugar, and all the butter. Remove from the 
fire, and beat in the raw yolks while still scalding hot. 
Set aside to cool, while you cut the celery or lettuce into 
small pieces, tearing and bruising as little as may be. 
Mix this lightly with the fish in a deep bowl. Rub 
the boiled yolks to a powder, add the salt, sugar and 
pepper, then the oil, little by little, beating it in with a 
silver spoon; next, the mustard. When the thick egg 
sauce is quite cold, whip the other into it with an 
ego-beater, and when thoroughly incorporated, put in 
the vinegar. Mix half the dressing through the fish 
and celery, turn this into a salad-dish, mounding it 
in the centre, and pour the rest of the dressing over 
it. 

Garnish with rings of boiled white-of-egg or whip- 
ped raw whites, heaped regularly on the surface, with, 
a caper on top of each. 

Do not be discouraged at the length of this receipt. 
It is easy and safe. Your taste may suggest some mod- 
ification of the ingredients, but you will like it, in 
the main, well aaa to try it more than once. 


42 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


DervILLED SALMON. >f< 


$ pound smoked salmon, cut into strips half an inch 
wide and an inch long. 

4 table-spoonfuls good beef gravy, seasoned with 
onion. 

1 table-spoonful tomato or walnut catsup. 

1 table-spoonful vinegar. 

2 table-spoonfuls melted butter or best salad-oil. 

1 teaspoonful made mustard. 

Cayenne to taste. 

Boil the salmon ten minutes in clear water. Have 
ready in a saucepan the gravy and seasoning, hot and 
closely covered, but do not let it boil. Lay the salmon 
for ten minutes more in the melted butter, turning it 
several times. Then put into the hot gravy, cover and 
simmer five minutes. Pile the fish upon a hot platter ; 
pour the sauce over it, and serve with split Boston 
crackers, toasted and buttered. 


SmoxeD Satmon (Brodled). rhe 


4 pound smoked salmon, cut into narrow strips. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

Cayenne pepper. 

Parboil the salmon ten minutes; lay in cold water 
for the same length of time ; wipe dry, and broil over a 
clear fire. Butter while hot, season with cayenne and 
lemon-juice, pile in a “ log-cabin”’ square upon a hot 
plate, and send up with dry toast. 


FISH 43 


Satr Cop au mattre @hétel. 


About a pound of cod which has been soaked over 
night, then boiled, picked into fine flakes. 

1 cup milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

Bunch of sweet herbs. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch. Pepper to taste. 

Heat the milk to boiling, stir in the butter, then the 
corn-starch; stir until it thickens, when add the fish; 
pepper and cook slowly fifteen minutes. Turn out 
upon a dish, strew thickly with chopped green herbs 
—chiefly parsley; squeeze the lemon-juice over all and 
serve. | 

Mashed potato is an improvement to this dish. 


Satt Cop with Eco Sauce. -fa 


1 pound salt cod, previously soaked, then boiled and 
allowed to cool, picked or chopped fine. 

1 small cup milk or cream. 

1 teaspoonful corn-starch or flour. 

2 eggs beaten light. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

A little chopped parsley. 

Half as much mashed potato as you have fish. 

Pepper to taste. 

Heat the milk, thicken with the corn starch; then 
the potato, rubbed very fine; next the butter, the eggs 
and parsley, lastly the fish. Stir and toss until smok- 
ing hot all through, when pour into a deep dish. 


44 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


Or, 

Make a sauce of all the ingredients except the fish 
and potato. Mix these well together, with a little melted 
butter. Heat in a saucepan, stirring all the while; 
heap in the centre of a dish, and pour the sauce over all. 


Sattr Cot witn CHEESE. 


1 pound boiled codfish, chopped fine. 

1 cup drawn butter. 

Pepper and parsley. : 

2 table-spoonfuls grated cheese. Bread-crumbs. 

Heat the butter to boiling, season and stir in the fish, 
then the cheese; put into a baking-dish; strew fine 
bread-crumbs on the top, and brown in the oven. 


Satt Cop SCALLOPED. 


Boiled cold cod, minced fine. 

1 cup oyster liquor. 

1 table-spoonful rice-flour or corn-starch. 

8 table-spoonfuls butter. 

Chopped parsley and pepper. 

3 hard-boiled eggs, chopped fine. 

1 cup fine, dry bread-crumbs. 

Boil the oyster liquor, thicken and stir in two table- 
spoonfuls of butter with seasoning. Let it cool. Puta 
handful of bread-crumbs on the bottom of a buttered 
baking-dish, cover these with the oyster sauce, next 
comes a layer of fish ; one of chopped egg ; then more 
sauce, and so on, leaving out the bread-crumbs until 
the dish is full, when puta thick layer, with bits of 
butter set closely in it. Bake covered until hot through, 
then brown. 


= 


FISH. A5 


FricassEED Lozster. >} 


Meat of a good-sized lobster, boiled. 

1 cup rich veal, or chicken broth—quite thick. 

% cup cream. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Cut the lobster-meat in pieces half an inch square ; 
put with the gravy, pepper and salt, into a saucepan. 
Cover and stew gently for five minutes. Add the 
cream, and just as it is on the point of boiling, stir 
in the butter. When this is melted, take the sauce- 
pan from the fire, and stir in, very quickly, the lemon- 
juice. 

Serve in a covered dish. © 

Boston crackers, split, delicately toasted, and but- 
tered while hot, are a nice accompaniment to this 
fricassee. 

Canned lobster may be used if you cannot procure 
fresh. 

Lozster Rissoxzs. pf 


1 large lobster—boiled. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

Yolks of 3 eggs. 

Handful of bread-crumbs. 

1 table-spoonful of anchovy sauce. 

Cayenne, salt, and chopped parsley to liking. 

Pick the meat from the boiled lobster, and pound it 
in a Wedgewood mortar with half the coral, seasoning 
with salt and cayenne pepper. When you have rubbed 
it to a smooth paste with the butter, add a table-spoon- 


46 BREAKFAST, LUNOHEON AND THA. 


ful of anchovy sauce and the yolk of an egg, well 
beaten. Flour-your hands well and make the mixture 
into ege-shaped balls. toll these in beaten egg, then 
in bread-crumbs, and fry to a light brown in sweet 
lard, dripping, or butter. 

For the Sauce. 


The coral of the lobster rubbed smooth. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce. 

4 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 

1 table- “spoonful of cream. 

Have ready in a saucepan 4 table- spoonfuls of 
melted butter; the remainder of the coral of the lobster 
pounded fine, and stirred in carefully, and a teaspoon- 
ful of anchovy sauce. Let this heat almost to boiling; 
add the cream, and pour hot over the rissoles when 
you have arranged these upon a heated dish. 

Garnish with parsley or cresses. 


Losster CurLets sho 


Are made precisely as is the paste for rissoles, except 
that enough flour is added to it to enable you to roll it 
out into a sheet about as thick as your finger. Cut 
this into strips about three inches in length and one in 
width. Fry these quickly and drain dry before ar- 
ranging them in the dish. 

Pour the sauce over them. If properly made and 
fried, they are light and palatable. 


LozstER OroQuErres. pf 


1 fine lobster, well boiled, or a can of lobster. 
2 egos, well beaten. 
2 table-spoonfuls of butter, melted, but not hot. 


FISH. 47 


$ cup bread-crumbs. 

Season with salt and cayenne pepper. 

Pound the lobster-meat, coral and all, in a Wedge- 
wood mortar. Mix with this the bread-crumbs, then 
the seasoning and butter. Bind with the yolk of one 
egg. Flour your hands and make into oblong cro- 
quettes. Dip in beaten egg, then in bread-crumbs, 
and fry quickly to a light-brown in sweet lard or but- 
ter. Drain off fat, by laying upon a hot, clean paper, 
before dishing them. 

Make a border of parsley close about them when 
you have piled them tastefully in the dish. 


LogsrerR PuppiInea. 


1 large lobster well boiled, or a can of preserved lob- 
ster. 

4 cup fine bread-crumbs. 

4 cup cream or rich milk. 

_Cayenne pepper and salt. 

1 teaspoonful of Worcestershire or Harvey’s sauce. 

+ pound fat, salt pork, or corned ham, cut into very 
thin slices. 

3 eggs. 

Pound the meat and coral to a paste. Mix into this 
two eggs well beaten, the seasoning, the bread-crumbs, 
and one table-spoonful of cream. Stir all together until 
light. Line the pudding-mould with the sliced ham. 
Pour the mixture into this and fit on the top. Set intoa 
pot or pan of boiling water, and boil steadily for one hour. 


Sauce for Pudding. 


~ cup drawn butter. 
The remainder of the cream. 


48 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


A. little chopped parsley. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce. 

Heat almost to boiling; stir in a beaten egg, and so 
soon as this begins to thicken, take from the fire. 

Turn the pudding out carefully upon a hot dish, 
and pour the sauce over it. Cut with a sharp thin 
knife. 

Send around lemon cut into eighths, to be squeezed 
over each slice, should the guests wish to do so. 


CurRIED LOBSTER. 


1 large lobster, boiled. 

1 large cup of strong veal or chicken broth. 

1 shallot. 

1 great spoonful of butter. 

1 great spoonful chopped thyme and parsley. 

Juice of 1 lemon. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce. 

1 table-spoonful curry-powder. 

Pick the meat very fine and set aside in a cool place. 
Mince the onion, and put it with the chopped herbs, 
the butter and a table-spoonful of hot water, into a small 
covered saucepan. Set this over the fire until it begins 
to simmer, then add the broth. Boil all together for 
five minutes, strain as for soup, stir in the curry powder 
and corn-starch, and stew gently ten minutes longer, 
stirring often. Season as directed, and add the picked 
lobster. Let the saucepan stand in a pan of boiling 
water ten minutes, but do not let the contents of the 
inner vessel boil. Pour into a deep dish. 


FISH. 49 


Send around wafery slices of toast buttered while hot, 
and pieces of lemon to be added if necessary. 


Devittep Lossrer. rf 


1 lobster, well boiled. 

3 table-spoonfuls butter. 

1 teaspoonful made mustard. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce. 

1 wine glass of vinegar. 

Cayenne pepper and salt. 

2 hard-boiled eggs. 

Pick the meat carefully from the shell, breaking it 
as little as may be. Rub the coral to a smooth paste 
with the back of a silver spoon. Chop the meat fine. 
Stir into this the butter, melted, but not hot, the yolks 
of the eggs, rubbed smooth with the coral, the pepper, 
mustard and salt, and put all together in a saucepan 
over the fire. Stir until it is smoking hot, then turn 
into the shell, which should be washed and heated. 


-STEWED LOBSTER. 


1 large lobster, well boiled. 

1 cup good gravy—veal is best. 

1 blade of mace. 

2 table-spoonfuls of melted butter. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

Cayenne and salt to liking. 

1 glass sherry. 

1 teaspoonful chopped parsley. | 

Cut the meat of the lobster into pieces an inch long 
and half as wide, keeping the coral until the last. Put 
the meat, with the broth and seasoning, into a sauce- 


50 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


pan and heat gently, stirring frequently until it is near 
boiling. ‘Then add the coral and butter (which should 
previously be well rubbed together) and the chopped 
parsley. When the mixture again nears the boiling 
point, add the wine and lemon-juice and turn into a 
deep dish. 


ScatLopeD Lozsrer (No. 1). 


1 boiled lobster. 

4 table-spoonfuls of cream. 

2 eggs well beaten. 

$ cup bread- crumbs. 

2 tablespoonfuls butter. 

1 tea-spoonful anchovy sauce. 

Season to taste with cayenne, salt and nutmeg. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

Rub the meat of the lobster, including the coral, a 
little at a time, in a Wedgewood mortar with the butter, 
until it is a soft paste. Put this into a saucepan with 
the seasoning, and heat to boiling, stirring constantly. 
Remove from the fire, and add the cream and lemon- 
juice, stirring in well. fill the lobster shell with this 
mixture. Strew bread-crumbs over the top, and set on 
the upper grate of a quick oven until the crumbs begin 
to brown. 

Send to table in the shell, laid wpon a hot dish. 

You can scallop crab in the same manner. 


Scattorep Lozsrer (No. 2). 


J lobster, well boiled. 
3 table-spoonfuls of butter. 
1 teaspoonful of anchovy sauce. 


SHELL-FISH. 51 


% cup of bread-crumbs. 

% cup of cream. 

2 egos well beaten. 

Season with cayenne pepper and salt. 

Cut the lobster carefully into halves with a sharp 
knife. Pick out the meat carefully, and set aside 
while you prepare the sauce. This is done by rubbing 
the coral and the soft green substance, known as the 
“pith,” together in a mortar or bowl, adding, a little 
at a time, a table-spoonful of butter. Put this on 
the fire in a covered saucepan, and stir until it is 
smoking hot. Then, beat in the anchovy sauce, pepper 
and salt before adding the cream. Heat quickly to a 
boil, lest the cream should curdle, put in the picked 
meat, and again stir up well from the sides and bottom 
until very hot. The eggs, whipped to a froth, should 
now go in. Remove the saucepan from the fire so 
soon as this is done. 

Have the upper and lower halves of the shell ready 
buttered, strew bread-crumbs thickly in the bottom of 
each, moisten these with cream, and pour in the lobster 
mixture while still very hot. Put another layer of 
bread-crumbs, well moistened with the remainder of 
the cream, on the top. Stick bits of butter all over it, 
and brown on the upper grating of a hot oven. 

In either of these preparations of scalloped lobster, 
should the canned lobster be used, or should you chance 
to break the shell in getting out the meat, you may 
bake the mixture prepared, as directed, in a pudding- 
dish or small pazé pans. 


52 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA 


CRABS 


Are so near of kin to the lobster family that the same 
receipts may easily be used for both. Only, bear in 
mind that the lesser and tougher shell-fish needs more 
boiling than does the aristocratic lobster. If under- 
done, crabs are very unwholesome. Also, in con- 
sideration of the crab’s deficiency in the matter of the 
coral which lends lusciousness and color to lobster 
salads and stews, use more butter and cream in “get- 
ting him up” for the table. 

Cayenne pepper is regarded by many as necessary in 
dishes of lobster or crab, because of its supposed effi- 
cacy in preventing the evil effects which might other- 
wise follow indulgence in these delicacies. 


Sorr CRABS. 


For a receipt for preparing these, please see “Com- 
mon Sense in the Household, No. 1,” page 71. 


TURTLE F'R1cassEn. »fa 


8 pounds turtle steak. 

1 large cup strong veal gravy. 

4. hard-boiled eggs—the yolks only. 
1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce. 

1 teaspoonful Harvey’s sauce. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

2 dozen mushrooms. 

1 small onion, minced fine. 

1 bunch sweet herbs, minced. 

1 glass wine, and butter for frying. 
Browned flour for thickening, with cayenne and salt. ~ 


SHELL-FISH. 53 


Cut the steak in strips as wide and as long as 
three of your fingers ; fry brown (when you have floured 
them) in butter. Take up; drain off the grease ; put 
with the gravy, which should be ready heated, into a 
tin vessel with a close cover and set in a pot of hot 
water. It must not boil until you have putin the rest 
of the ingredients. Slice the onion and mushrooms, 
and fry in the same butter; add with the herbs and 
other seasoning to the meat in the pail, or inner sauce- 
pan. Cover and set to stew gently. To the butter left 
in the frying-pan, add three spoonfuls of browned 
flour (large ones) and stir to a smooth unctuous paste, 
without setting it on the range. Add the lemon- 
juice to this, and set aside until the turtle has simmered 
half an hour in the broth. Take up the meat, and ar- 
range upon a covered hot-water dish; transfer the 
gravy to a saucepan, and boil hard five minutes uncov- 
ered. Putin the brown flour paste; stir up until it 
thickens well; add the wine and yolks of eggs, each 
cut in three pieces, and pour over the turtle. 


Pannep OvystTERs. > 


1 quart of oysters. 

Rounds of thin toast, delicately browned. 

Butter, salt and pepper. 

Have ready several small pans of block tin, with 
upright sides. The ordinary “patty-pan” will do, 
if you can get nothing better, but it is well, if you are 
fond of oysters cooked in this way, to have the neat 
little tins made, at a moderate price, at a tinsmith’s. 
Cut stale bread in thin slices, then round—removing all 
the crust—of a size that will just fit in the bottoms of 


D4 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


your pans. Toast these quickly to a light-brown, 
butter and lay within your tins. Wet with a great 
spoonful of oyster liquid, then, with a silver fork, 
arrange upon the toast as many oysters as the pans 
will hold without heaping them up. Dust with pepper 
and salt, put a bit of butter on top and set the pans, 
when all are full, upon the floor of a quick oven. 
Cover with an inverted baking-pan to keep in steam 
and flavor, and cook until the oysters “ ruffle.” Eight 
minutes in a brisk oven, should be enough. Send 
very hot to the table in the tins in which they were 
roasted. 

Next to roasting in the shell, this mode of cooking 
oysters best preserves the native flavor of the bivalves. 


F'RICASSEED OYSTERS. >< 


1 pint good broth—veal or chicken—well strained. 

1 slice of ham—corned is better than smoked. 

3 pints oysters. 

1 small onion. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

4 cup of milk. 

1 table-spoonful of corn-starch. 

1 egg beaten light. 

A little ee parsley and sweet marjoram. 

Pepper to taste and juice of a lemon. 

If the ham be raw, soak in boiling water for half 
an hour before cutting it into very small slices, and put- 
ting it into the saucepan with the broth, the oyster 
liquor, the onion minced very fine, the herbs and pep- 
per. Let these simmer for fifteen minutes, and boil 
fast for five, then skim and put in the oysters. Boil 





SHELL-FISH. 55 


up once briskly, keeping the contents of the saucepan 
well stirred. Have ready the corn-starch, rubbed 
smoothly into the milk. Stir this in and heat care- 
fully, using the spoon constantly until it boils and be- 
gins to thicken, when the butter should go in. So soon 
as this is melted take out the oysters with a skimmer ; 
put into a hot covered dish, heat the broth again toa 
boil, remove the saucepan from the fire, and stir in 
cautiously the beaten egg. A better way is to cook 
the latter gradually by beating in with it a few table- 
spoonfuls of the scalding liquor, before putting the 
egg into the saucepan. 

Turn the gravy over the oysters, and serve at once. 
Squeeze in the lemon-juice after the tureen is on the 
table, as it is apt to curdle the mixture if left to 
stand. 

Send around cream crackers, and green pickles or 
olives with this savory dish. 


Oysters Bomep IN THE SHELL. 


Large shell-oysters, washed very clean and scraped, 
but not opened. 

Pot of boiling water over a hot fire. 

Sauce of melted butter with chopped or powdered 
parsley. 

A lemon, cut in half. 

Put the oysters, one by one, quickly and carefully 
into the water, which must be kept at a hard boil all the 
time. In five minutes, turn off every drop of the 
water by inverting the pot over a cullender, dry the 
shells rapidly with a soft cloth and send to table upon 
a hot dish. Squeeze a few drops of lemon-juice upon 


56 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


each oyster, and put a little hot melted butter with 
pepper over it before eating it from the shell. . 

The epicurean oyster-lover may consider boiled Ags 
ters insipid, but they are liked by many. 


ScaLLopeD Oysters (No. 1). >] 


Large, fine shell-oysters. 

Butter. 

Fine bread-crumbs, or rolled cracker. 

Minced parsley, pepper and salt. 

Lemon-juice. 

Open the shells, setting aside for use the deepest 
ones. Have ready some melted butter, no¢ hot, sea- 
soned with minced parsley and pepper. Roll each 
oyster in this, letting it drip as little as may be, and lay 
in the shells, which should be arranged in a baking- 
pan. Add to each a little lemon-juice, sift bread- 
crumbs over it, and bake in a quick oven until done. 

Serve in the shells. 


ScaLLoPpeD Oysters (No. 2). fs 


1 quart of oysters. 

1 teacupful very dry bread-crumbs, or pounded 
cracker. 

2 great spoonfuls butter. 

% cup of milk, or cream, if you ean get it. 

Pepper to taste. A little salt. 

Cover the bottom of a baking-dish (well buttered) 
with a layer of crumbs, and wet these with the cream, 
put on spoonful by spoonful. Pepper and salt, and 
strew with minute bits of butter. Next, put in the 
oysters, with a little of their liquor. Pepper them, 


SHELL-FISH. 57 


stick bits of butter in among them, and cover with 
dry crumbs until the oysters are entirely hidden. 
More pieces of butter, very small, and arranged thickly 
on top. Set in the oven, invert a plate over it to keep 
in the flavor, and bake until the juice bubbles up to the 
top. Remove the cover, and brown on the upper grat- 
ing for two or three minutes—certainly not longer. 

Send to table in the bake-dish. 

This is a good intermediate course between fish and 
meat, and is always popular. 


Bromzp Oysters. -f« 


1 quart of the finest, firmest oysters you can procure. 

4 cup very dry bread-crumbs, or pounded crackers, 
sifted almost as fine as flour. 

Pepper to taste. 

4 cup melted butter. 

Dr 7 the oysters by laying them on a antes cloth and 
covering them with another. Dip each in the melted 
butter, which should be peppered, roll over and over in 
the cracker-crumbs, and broil upon one of the wire 
gridirons, made for this purpose, over a clear fire. 
These wire “ broilers ” hold the oysters firmly, and can 
be safely turned when one side is done. Five or six 
minutes should cook them. Butter and pepper a hot 
dish, lay in the oysters, and serve immediately. 


DEvVILLED OYSTERS. >< 


1 quart fine oysters. 
Cayenne pepper. 
Lemon-juice. 

Some melted butter. 


58 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 egg, beaten light. 

% cup rolled cracker. 

Wipe the oysters dry, and lay in a flat dish. Cover 
with a mixture of melted butter, cayenne pepper (or 
pepper-sauce), and lemon-juice. Let them lie in this 
for ten minutes, turning them frequently ; roll in the 
crumbs, then in the beaten egg, again in the crumbs, 
and fry in mixed lard and butter, made very hot be- 
fore the oysters are dropped in. 


Oysters IN BATTER. 


1 quart of oysters. 

2 egos, whipped light. 

1 cup of milk. 

Flour to make a good batter. 

Pepper and salt. 

Dry the oysters with a soft cloth, dip in the batter 
twice, turning each one dexterously, that it may be 
thickly coated, and fry in a mixture of butter and lard. 


STEWED OySsTERS. 


1 quart of oysters. 

1 cup of milk. 

Salt very slightly, and pepper to taste. 

1 great spoonful butter. 

Drain the liquor from the oysters into a saucepan 
and heat to a boil. At the same time, put on the milk 
to heat in another vessel set within a pot or pan of boil- 
ing water. When the liquor in the saucepan boils up, 
put in the oysters and stew until they begin to ruffle or 
crimp at the edges. Stir in the butter, and when this 
is quite dissolved, turn the stew into a tureen. Add 





SUELL-FISH. 59 


the milk immediately (which should be boiling hot), 
cover closely, and send to table. Send around pickles, 
or olives, and crackers with them. There is no danger, 
when oysters are stewed in this way, of the milk curd- 
ling. 

Oyster PAr&s. 


1 quart of oysters, minced fine with a sharp knife, 
with a thin blade,—not a “ chopper.” 

1 great spoonful butter “ drawn” in acupful of milk, 
or cream, if you can get it, and thicken with a teaspoon- 
ful of corn-starch or rice-flour, previously wet up with 
cold milk. Salt and pepper to taste. 

Drain the liquor from the oysters, and chop them as 
directed. When the milk has been boiled and thick- 
ened, and the butter well incorporated with it, stir in 
the minced oysters, and stew about five minutes, stir- 
ring all the while. Have ready some shapes of nice 
pastry, baked, and fill with the mixture. Set in the 
oven about two minutes to heat them well, and send to 
table 

Or, 
You can heat the chopped oysters in a very little of 
their own liquor before adding to the thickened milk. 
Unless you are sure that the latter is quite fresh, this is 
a prudent precaution. 


Cream Oyster Piz, 

Line a pie-plate with good puff paste; fill it with 
slices of stale bread, laid evenly within it; butter that 
part of the crust lining the rim of the dish, and cover 
with a top crust. Bake quickly in a brisk oven, and 


60 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


while still hot, dexterously and carefully lift the upper 
crust. The buttered rim will cause it to separate easily 
from the lower. Have ready a mixture of minced 
oysters and thickened cream, prepared according to the 
foregoing receipt, and having taken out the stale bread 
(put there to keep the top crust in shape), fill the pie 
with the oyster cream. Replace the cover, set in the 
oven for two minutes, or until hot, and serve. This is 
a nice luncheon dish, and not amiss for supper. 





BREAKFAST. 


He was a shrewd Celebs who restrained his loverly 
impatience to throw himself, in unconditional surren- 
der, at the feet of his beloved, by the resolution to see 
her first at the breakfast-table. It is to be regretted 
that his admiring biographer has not recorded the re- 
sult of the experiment. Let us hope, for the sake of pre- 
serving the “ unities of the drama,” that Cecilia was “in 
good form ” on the momentous occasion ; not a thread 
ironed awry in bib or tucker; not a’rebellious hair in 
her sleek locks. Coelebs—-Hannah More’s Coelebs—and 
every other that I ever read or heard of, was a prag- 
matical prig ; the complacent proprietor of a patent 
refrigerator, very commodious and in excellent repair, 
but which ought never, even by his conceited self, to 
have been mistaken for a heart. 

Knowing you, my reader, as I do, I would not 
insult your good sense by intimating that the husband 
of your choice resembles him in any leading trait. 
Being a sensible (and avowedly a fallible) man, there- 
fore, John does not expect you to appear at the break- 
fast-table in the flowing robes and elaborate laces that 
belong to the leisure hours of the day. If he does, he 
should don dress-coat and white cravat to keep you 
in countenance. He will not find fault with a neat 


62 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


peignow (if it be neat), or a plainly-trimmed dress, or 
a white apron before the same. He ought to look for, 
~and to see a clean collar put on straight and fastened 
snugly at the throat, or a white ruffle and cuffs, or 
wrist-rufiles, to correspond, and hair in irreproachable 
order. I have seen women who called themselves 
ladies, who could never find time to give their hair 
what they called “a good combing,’ until afternoon. 
And time and patience would fail me, and I fear the 
equanimity of your diaphragm as well, were I to at- 
tempt even a partial recapitulation of the many and 
disgustful varieties of morning toilettes, of which I 
have been the unwilling spectator. You should hear 
my John,—whose profession takes him into what the re- 
nowned Ann Gale styles the “ buzzom of families,” at 
all sorts of unconventional hours,—dilate upon this 
theme. Not invalid attire. When the work of wear- 
ing the robe of flesh becomes a matter of pain and dif- 
ficulty, he must be indeed hypercritical who notes the 
ill-fitting wrapper, or roughened hair. 

“ But the queens of the breakfast-table!” he says, 
with lifted eyebrows. “The grimy chrysalids of the - 
afternoon butterflies ! It is not a casual glimpse of Cin- 
derella on sweeping-day, or during house-cleaning week, 
that I complain of ; but my heart swells with sincerest 
pity for the husbands before whose eyes the play is 
enacted three hundred and sixty-five times every year ; 
to whom the elf-locks and collarless neck, the greasy, 
lank, torn dressing-gown of dark calico appear as surely 
and regularly as the light of each new day.” 

I do not say that you should bring to the breakfast- 
table a face like a May morning. I hate stereotyped 





BREAKFAST. 6 


ee) 


phrases and stereotyped smiles. But try to look as gra- | 
cious as though a visitor sat between you and the gen- 
tleman at the foot of the board. It is not always easy 
to appear even moderately cheerful at breakfast-time. 
An eminent physician told me once, as the result of 
many years’ study and observation, that no woman 
should be up in the morning more than an hour before 
breaking her fast. My own experience has so far cor- 
roborated the wisdom of the advice that I always strive 
to impress upon my domestics, especially the not strong 
ones, the expediency of eating a slice of bread and 
drinking a cup of tea during the interval that must 
elapse between their rising-hour and the kitchen break- 
fast. 1 practise the like precaution against faintness 
and headache, in my own case, when I have to give my 
personal superintendence to the morning meal, or when 
it is later than usual. But with all precautionary 
measures, I believe “before breakfast ” to be the most 
doleful hour of the twenty-four to a majority of our 
sex. In winter, the house is at a low temperature ; 
dressing, a hurried and disagreeable business; the 
children are drowsy, lazy, and cross; John “ doesn’t 
want to seem impatient, but would like to have break- 
fast on time, to-day, my dear, as I have an important 
engagement.” While the mother, who has slept with 
one ear quite open all night, and one eye half shut, 
because she fancied, at bed-time, that baby’s breathing 
was not quite natural, fights twenty battles with bodily 
discomfort and spiritual irritability before she takes 
her seat behind the coffee-urn, and draws her first long 
breath at the beginning of the “blessing,” that re- 
minds her of the mercies, new every morning, which 


64 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND ‘THA. 


are still hers. For all this, try womanfully to lannch 
John upon the day’s voyage with a smile and word of 
cheer. Think twice before you tell him of the cook’s 
indolence and stupidity, and the housemaid’s petu- 
lance. In the hope that the nauseating pain in your 
head may yield to a “good cup of tea—(bless it, with 
me, O my sisters, one and all!) it is as well to with- 
hold the fact of its existence from him. If he wild 
read the morning paper over his coffee, his cakes 
growing cold meanwhile, and thereby obliges the cook 
to bake twice as many as would be necessary for the 
meal were all to partake of it at the same time, re- 
strain the censure that trembles on your tongue, and 
chat merrily with the children. A silent, hasty break- 
fast is one of the worst things imaginable for their 
digestion and tempers. 

You would often rather have “a comfortable cry” 
in a corner than act thus, but persuade yourself bravely 
that nine-tenths of your miserable sensations are hys- 
terical, and, therefore, ephemeral. If we women do 
not know what the “morning cloud ” is, nobody does. 
Still, remember it “ passeth away.” 

If possible, let your eating-room be light and plea- 
sant,—warm in winter, breezy in summer. Not only 
should the table be neat, orderly, and, so far as you 
can make it so, pretty, but guard against what I have 
mentally characterized, in some very grand sadlles-d- 
manger, as the “ workshop look”—the look that says 
to all who enter—“ This is the place where you must 
eat.” There are:tall beaufets with loads of plate and 
glass, side-tables with reserves of implements for the 
labors of the hour and place; pictures of game, fish 





BREAKFAST. 65 


and fruit ;—more eating ;—and if the walls are fres- 
coed, more game, sheep and oxen, or, at the best, 
hunting, seem to reassure the consumers of to-day 
that there will be more creatures killed in season for 
to-morrow’s dinner. ‘Therefore, eat, drink and be 
solemn while doing it, as befits the season and sur- 
roundings. ‘There is nothing like having a single eye 
to business. 

Do not fret yourself if your dining-room boasts 
neither paintings nor frescoes. Throw open all the 
shutters in the morning, and coax in every available 
ray of sunlight. Press the weather into service to 
adorn the repast. If tine, remark upon the blueness of 
the sky and the enjoyment of the outer world in the 
glory of the day. If stormy, make the best of home- 
cheer, and promise something attractive as an evening 
entertainment, should the weather continue wet, or 
snowy. A canary-bird in the sunniest window is a 
good thing to have in a breakfast-room if you like his 
shrill- warbling. A pot of English ivy, brave and 
green, twisting over the face of the old clock, and fes- 
tooning the windows, is a choice bit of brightness in 
the winter time. In summer, when flowers are cheap 
and plentiful, never set the table without them if you 
can get nothing more than a button-hole bouquet to lay 
on John’s napkin. Insist that the children shall make 
themselves tidy before coming to the table, whatever 
may be the meal, even if they will meet nobody except 
yourself there. Teach them early that it is a disgrace 
to themselves and to you to eat with unclean hands and 
faces. Inculcate, further, the propriety of introducing, 
while at table, ae that will interest and please all. 


66 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Let wrangling, fault-finding and recrimination be never 
so much as named among them. These are little 
things, but whatever detracts from the idea that the 
family repast is a tri-daily festival, and should be 
honored and enjoyed as such, is a wrong to those whose 
happiness it is your mission to guard and maintain. A 
wrong to health as to heart. J*ood swallowed in bit- 
terness of spirit engenders dyspepsia and bile as surely 
as do acrid fruit and heavy bread. A sharp reprimand 
will take away sensitive Mamie’s appetite, and a frown 
between the eyes that, when serene, seem to John to 
mirror heaven itself, will beget in his bosom that in- 
describable sinking of heart we know as “ goneness,” 
which is yet not physical faintness. 

I have jotted down these hints under the heading of 
“ Breakfast,” althongh most of them are applicable to 
all meals, because, as a rule, people bring less keenness 
of hunger to this than to any other. It is as if the 
longest fast that separates our stated time of eating 
from another were the hardest to break; as if we had 
got out of the habit of desiring and receiving food. It 
behooves us, then, as wise housewives, to make pro- 
vision against mortifying rejection of our viands by vari- 
ous and artful devices to tempt the dull or coy appetite. 
Especially should we study to avoid sameness in our 
breakfast bills of fare; an easy thing to compass by a 
moderate exercise of foresight and ingenuity on the 
part of the housewite. 

The American breakfast should be a pleasing med- 
ium between the heavy cold beef and game pie of the 
English and the—for our climate and “fast” habits 
of life—too light morning refreshment of the French. 


BREAKFAST. 67 


That in or der to accomplish these ends it is not neces 
sary g greatly to increase the market pills of the house- 
hold, or the cares of the mistress, I have tried to prove 
in these pages, while I have not deemed it well to 
specify, in all cases, which are exclusively breakfast 
dishes. Very many of those I have described might 
appear with equal propriety at breakfast, at ot ae 
at what is spoken of in provincial circles as “a hearty 
supper,” or as an entrée or side- dish at dinner. 


PATES. 


No form of meat, entrée, or made dish is more pop- 
ular, and, if rightly prepared, more elegant than the 
paté. It is susceptible of variations, many and pleasant, 
chiefly in the form of the crust and the nature of its 
contents. The celebrated patés de fove gras, imported 
from Strasbourg, are usually without the paste en- 
closure, and come to us in hermetically sealed jars. 


Paté oF SWEETBREADS. P}< 


Make a good puff paste, basting two or three times 
with butter, and set in a cold place for at least half an 
hour. The best paté covers I have ever made were 
from paste kept over night in a cool dry safe, before it 
was rolled into a sheet for cutting. When the paste is 
crisp and firm, roll quickly, and cut into rounds about 
a quarter of an inch thick. Reserving one of these 
whole for the bottom crust of each pate, lay it in a 
floured baking-pan, cut the centre from two or three 
others, as you desire your paté to be shallow or deep, 
and lay these carefully, one after another, upon the 
whole one, leaving a neat round well, a little over an 
inch in diameter, in the middle. Bake in a quick oven, 
and when lightly browned, glaze by brushing each 
over with white of egg and returning to the oven fora 


 PATES. 69 


minute. Make ready as many sweetbreads as you need 
(two of fair size will make a good dish), previously 
prepared by boiling fifteen minutes in hot water, then 
made firm by plunging into very cold. Cut them into 
slices, season with pepper and salt, put into a covered 
saucepan with a great spoonful of butter and a very 
little water, and simmer gently until tender all through. 
Cut these in turn into very small squares, and mix 
with less than a cupful of white sauce. Return to the 
saucepan and heat almost to boiling, stirring carefully 
all the time. fill the patés, arrange upon a hot dish, 
and send up at once. 


White Sauce for the above. 


1 small cupful of milk, heated to boiling in a cus- 
tard-kettle, or tin pail set in hot water. 

1 heaping teaspoonful corn-starch, wet with cold 
milk. ie . 

Salt and pepper to taste. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

JA little chopped parsley. 

Stir the corn-starch into the boiling milk until it 
thickens well, then the butter and seasoning. 

This mixture is useful in all similar preparations, 
but should be a little thicker for oysters than for 
meats. 


Curicken Parés. pf< 


Line small paté-pans with good puff paste, let this 
get crisp in a cool place, and bake in a brisk oven. Stir 
minced chicken, well seasoned, into a good white 
sauce, heat through, fill the shells, set in the oven to 
brown very slightly, and serve. 


70 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Or, 

Thicken the gravy left from the roast chicken with 
browned flour, add to the minced meat the yolk of one 
or two hard-boiled eggs, mashed fine; stir all together 
in a saucepan until hot, and fill the paste-shells. This 
is a brown mixture, and if not over-cooked, is very 
savory. | 

The remains of cold fowls, of any kind of game, and 
of veal, can be served up acceptably in this way. The 
patés should be small, that each person at table may 
take a whole one. If preferred, the paste can be cut 
rcund, as before directed, and baked without the tins. 


Parts or F isu. 


The cold remains of baked or boiled salmon, fresh 
cod or halibut. Some good white sauce, richer than if 
intended for meat. 

About one-fourth as much mashed potato as you have 
fish. 

Yolks of two or three hard-boiled eggs rubbed to 
a paste with a spoonful, or so, of butter. This paste 
should be smooth and light. 

Pepper and salt to taste, and a little chopped parsley. 

Shells of good puff paste, baked quickly to a delicate 
brown and glazed with beaten egg. 

Rub the sauce gradually into the mashed potato un- 
til both are free from lumps. When mixed, beat to- 
gether toa cream. Season and stir in the fish (which 
should be “ picked” very fine) with a silver fork, heap- 
ing it as you stir, instead of beating the mixture down. 
Do this quickly and lightly, fill the shells, set in the 
oven to heat through, and when smoking-hot draw to 


PATES. yes 


the oven door, and cover with the paste of egg and but- 
ter. A little cream may be added to this paste if it be 
not soft enough to spread easily. Shut the oven-door 
for two minutes, to heat the paste. 

Serve the dish very hot, and send around sliced 
lemon with it, as some persons like to squeeze a few 
drops over the paté before eating. 

Canned lobster and salmon are very good, thus pre- 
pared. Smoked salmon can be made palatable fox this 
purpose by soaking over night, and boiling in two 
waters. 


Swiss Parks. 


Some slices of stale bread. 

A little good dripping or very sweet lard mixed with 
the same quantity of butter. 

Two or three eggs beaten light. 

Very fine cracker-crumbs. 

Minced fowl or veal mixed with white sauce, and 
well seasoned. Cut thick slices of stale bread—baker’s 
bread is best—into rounds with a cake-cutter. With a 
smaller cutter extract a piece from the middle of each 
round, taking care not to let the sharp tin go quite 
through the bread, but leaving enough in the cavity to 
serve as a bottom to the pate. Dip the hollowed piece 
of bread in the beaten egg, sift the pulverized cracker 
over it, and fry in the dripping, or lard and butter, to a 
delicate brown. Drain every drop of fat from it. 
Arrange upon a hot dish when all are done, heap up 
with the “mince,” and eat without delay. 

Devilled crab or lobster is nice served in this style. 

Bread patés are a convenience when the housekeeper 


72 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


has not time to spare for pastry-making. You can, if 
you like, fry them without the egg or cracker; but 
most persons would esteem them too rich. 


STELLA PATE. 


3 cups minced veal or lamb—either roast or boiled. 
If underdone, it is an advantage, and if lamb be used, 
every particle of fat must be left out. 

1 can French mushrooms, or a pint of fresh ones. 

4 hard-boiled eggs cut into slices, and a sliced onion. 

4 table-spoonfuls melted butter, or a cupful strong 
veal, lamb or fowl gravy. 

3 cups fine bread-crumbs soaked in a cup of milk. 

2 raw egos beaten light and mixed with the milk. 

Fry the mushrooms brown in dripping, or butter, 
with the onion, then chop rather coarsely. Work the 
crumbs, milk and raw eggs into a thick, smooth batter, 
with which line the bottom and sides of a well-greased 
mould or baking dish. Within this put a layer of the 
minced meat, seasoned to taste, wet with gravy or a 
little melted butter, and lay sliced egg over it. Next 
should come a layer of mushrooms, then another of 
meat, and so on, repeating the order given above until 
all your materials are used up, or the mould is full. 
The upper layer should be of the soaked crumbs. 
Cover closely and bake in a moderate oven half an 
hour, or until the outer crust is well “set.” Then set 
the mould, still covered, in a baking-pan half full of 
boiling water. Keep in the oven, which should be hot- 
ter than at first, fifteen minutes longer. Pass a thin 
sharp knife around the inside of the mould to loosen 
the paté from the sides, and turn out with care upon a 





PATES. 73 


hot flat dish. You should have a little brown gravy 
ready to pour over it. 

If veal be the only meat used in preparing this dish, 
a layer of minced ham will improve the flavor. 

If these directions be strictly followed, the entrée 
will be pleasing to both eye and palate. 


Pavk OF BEEF AND POTATO. 


This is made according to the foregoing receipt, but 
substituting for the bread-crumb erust one of mashed 
potato beaten soft and smooth with a few spoonfuls of 
cream and raw egg. In place of mushrooms, put a 
layer of chopped potatoes (previously boiled), mixed 
with a boiled onion also chopped. Season with beef 
gravy, from which the fat has been skimmed. 


ImiraTIoN PATE DE FOIE GRAS, >< 


Livers of four or five fowls and as many gizzards. 

3 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 

A chopped onion. | 

1 table-spoonful Worcestershire, or other pungent 
sauce. 

Salt and white pepper to taste. 

A. few truffles, if you can get them. 

Boil the livers until quite done, drain and wipe dry, 
and when cold, rub them to a paste in a Wedgewood 
mortar. Let the butter and chopped onion simmer to- 
gether very slowly at the side of the range for ten min- 
utes. Strain them through thin muslin, pressing the 
bag hard to extract the full flavor of the onion, and 
work this well into the pounded liver. Turn into a 


larger vessel, and mix with it the rest of the seasoning, 
4 


74 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


working all together fora long while. Butter a small 
china or earthen-ware jar or cup, and press the mixture 
hard down within it, interspersing it with square bits 
of the boiled gizzards to represent truffles. Of course, 
the latter are preferable, but being scarce and expensive, 
they are not always to be had. If you have them, boil 
them and let them get cold before putting them into 
the pate. Cover all with melted butter and set in a 
cool, dry place. If well seasoned it will keep for a 
fortnight in winter, but should be kept closely covered. 

This paté is a delicious relish, and is more easily at- 
tainable than would at first appear. The livers of a 
turkey and a pair of chickens or ducks will make a 
small one, and these can be saved from one poultry- 
day to another by boiling them in salt water, and keep- 
ing in a cool place. Or, one can often secure any 
number of giblets by previous application at the kitchen 
of a restaurant or hotel. 

Or— 

A fair imitation of the foregoing dish can be made 
from the liver of a young calf, with bits of the tongue 
for mock trufiles. 


CROQUETTES. 


TuxsE popular little rowlettes, although comparatively 
new to the tables of most private families in America, 
hold their place well where they have been once intro- 
duced. Like the paté, their name is Legion as regards 
shape, nature and quality. 

In a housewifely conversation with a lady a few 
months since, the word “ croquette”’ chanced to escape 
me, and I was caught up eagerly. 

“Now,” with an ingenuous blush, “do you know, I 
was offered some at a dinner-party the other day, and 
was completely nonplussed! I thought croquet was a 
game.” 

“ Croquette /” I interposed, making the most of the 
final ¢, and e. | 

“The gentleman who sat next me said ‘ croquay,’ 
very plainly, I assure you. But never mind the name. 
What are they made of? Hominy?” 

“Yes,” returned I. “Or rice, or potato, or lobster, 
crab, salmon, halibut, cod, chicken, turkey, duck, game, 
veal, lamb, or beef. In short, of all kinds of fish, 
flesh, fowl, and vegetable. The smaller varieties are fa- 
miliarly known to readers of cookery-books as “ olives” 
of meat, poultry, or game; the larger as rzssoles or 
croquettes, the largest as cannelons or mirotons.” 


76 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


“Good gracious!” uttered my overwhelmed friend. 
** Before I would bother my brain with such puzzling 
nonsense, I would set my family down to cold meat 
three times a day three days in a week !” 

I believed she meant what she said. But not the 
less is it a “good” and a “gracious” thing for the 
housewife to conjure out of such unconsidered and un- 
sightly trifles as the mutilated cold fowl from which 
half the breast and both legs are missing, or the few 
chops ‘left over,” or “ that bone” of lamb or veal, or 
three square inches of cold fish, a pretty plat for break- 
fast or luncheon, of golden-brown croquettes, imbedded 
in parsley, or in a ruby setting of pickled beets, that 
shall quicken John’s flagging appetite, and call from 
the little ones the never stale plaudit, “Mamma can 
always get up something nice.” 

“Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing 
be lost,” is a text from which the thoughtful house- 
mother may preach to herself, as well as to her ser-. 
vants. That no opportunity of making home fairer, 
and even one hour of the day a little brighter, be lost 
or overlooked. That no possibility of proving her con- 
stant, active love for the least of her flock be passed 
by. These daily cares and hourly assiduities are the 
rivets in the chain that binds her best beloved ones unto 
Tue Famiry. Lacking them, the relation, instituted 
by law and continued by custom, has no stancher secu- 
rities than habit and convenience—a hay-rope that will 
shrivel at the first touch of Passion, be rent by one 
resolute wrench of Expediency. 

“A serious view to take of croquettes? ” do I hear you 
say. Then hearken to something positive and practical. 


CROQUETTES Ok 


Unpalatable food is not wholesome. Tt may be 
medicinal. Nothing forced upon an unwilling appe- 
tite, and that does not gratify the palate, can impart 
that freshness of animal spirit and vigor which we call 
Life—spontaneous vitality. Indifferent fuel—green or 
sodden wood, or slaty coal—may keep a fire from go- 
ing out. There is not begotten from these the leaping 
flame that gladdens, while it warms. And cold meat 
and bread, dried into sawdusty innutrition, should no 
more form the staple of John’s meals, even three times 
a week, than his grate be filled, on December nights, 
with coke-dust and mica. 


CHICKEN CROQUETTES. >} 


Minced chicken. 

About one-quarter as much fine bread-crumbs as 
you have meat. 

1 ege, beaten light, to each cupful of minced meat. 

Gravy enough to moisten the crumbs and chicken. 
Or, if-you have no gravy, a little drawn butter. 

Pepper and salt, and chopped parsley to taste. 

Yolks of two hard-boiled eggs, rubbed fine with the 
back of a silver spoon, added to the meat. 

Mix up into a paste, with as little handling as may 
be. Nor must the paste be too wet to mould readily. 
Make, with floured hands, into rolls, or ovate balls, roll 
in flour until well coated, and fry, a few at a time, lest 
crowding should injure the shape, in nice dripping, or 
a mixture, half lard and half butter. As you take 
them out, lay in a hot cullender, that every drop of fat 
may be drained off. Serve in a heated dish, and gar- 
nish with cresses or parsley. 7 


78 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Turkey, duck, and veal croquettes can be made in 
the same manner. They are even nicer if dipped in 
egg and cracker-crumbs before frying. 


Breer CroqueEtres. >f« 


Minced cold roast or boiled beef. 

One-quarter as much potato. 

Gravy enough to moisten meat and potato, in which 
an onion has been stewed and strained out. Season also 
with catsup. : 

Pepper and salt to taste, and a pinch of marjoram. 

Beaten egg to bind the whole, and one or two more 
beaten in a separate bowl. 

Powdered cracker-crumbs. 

Mash the potatoes, while hot, very smooth, or, if cold 
mashed potato be used, be careful that no lumps re- 
main in it. Mix in the meat, gravy, and one raw egg, 
season, and form into the desired shape. Dip each ero- 
quette in beaten egg, then roll in the cracker-crumbs, 
and fry quickly to a light brown. Drain carefully, 
and lay upon a hot dish. 


Venison oR Murron Croquerrss. 


Some slices of cold roast venison, or roast or boiled 
mutton—the lean only, if mutton be used—minced. 

One-fifth as much stale bread, crumbed fine. 

Some good gravy or drawn butter, thickened with 
browned flour. 

Beaten egg for a lzadson. 

A pinch of mace, a very little grated lemon-peel, 
and chopped parsley to taste. 


CROQUETTES. 79 


Some currant jelly, in the proportion of a small tea- 
spoonful to each cup of gravy. 

Stir the jelly well into the gravy, season and wet up 
with this the meat and crumbs, add the beaten egg, 
make into rolls, and flour these, or dip in egg and 
cracker-crumbs before frying. 


A Nice Breakfast Dish 


May be made of these by piling them in the centre of 
a flat dish, within a wall, about two inches high, of 
mashed potato, moulded to fit the inside of the dish, 
and browned in the oven. You had best use the 
platter of a chafing-dish for this purpose, or one of 
stone china. You can, if you like, brush the “ wall” 
over with beaten ege before setting in the oven. Have 
ready some good, brown gravy, with a little currant 
jelly stirred into it; also, a small glass of claret. 
Thicken with browned flour, boil up once, and pour over 
the croquettes. 
Or, 


This is still nicer, if you add to the gravy some mush- 
rooms, previously fried in butter, and chopped up. If 
you use these, you may, if you like, omit the potato 
wall, garnishing the pile instead, with triangles of 
fried bread. 


Fisn CroqueEttes. 


Some cold fish—boiled, baked or fried—from which 
all fat, bones and skin have been removed, chopped 
fine. 

One-third as much mashed potato, rubbed to a cream 
with a little melted butter. 


80 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


A little white sauce, made of butter “drawn” in 
milk and thickened with corn-starch, and a beaten egg. 

Chopped parsley, salt, pepper, and anchovy sauce, or 
walnut catsup, for seasoning. 

Mix all well together, make into balls, which may 
be rolled in flour, or in beaten egg, and then cracker- 
crumbs, before they are fried. 

Send around sliced lemon with these, which are not 
good unless eaten hot. 

These are, as will be seen, a modification of the well- 
known and time-honored “ fish-ball,’ but, if properly 
made, will be found much better. 


CroqurtrTEes oF LopsTER OR CRAB, ofa 


Meat of one fine lobster, or six crabs well boiled. 

2 eggs. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

4 cup fine bread-crumbs. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce. 

Yolks of two eggs, boiled hard and rubbed to a 
powder, then beaten into the butter. 

1 good teaspoonful lemon-juice. 

Season well with salt and cayenne pepper; also, a 
pinch of mace and lemon-peel. 

Yolks of two raw eggs, beaten very light. 

Mince the meat, work in the butter—melted, but 
not hot; then the seasoning, the raw eggs, and lastly, 
the bread-crumbs. Make into oblong balls, and fry 
quickly in sweet lard, dripping, or half lard, half 
butter. Drain them of every drop of fat by rolling 
each, for an instant, very lightly upon a hot, clean 
cloth. Be sure your dish is well heated. 


CROQUETTES. 81 


These are very delicious, and should be accompanied 
by milk or cream crackers, with slices of lemon passed 
to such guests as would like the additional relish. 


CRroQuETTES or GAME. pf 


Remains of cold grouse, quail, ete. 

Giblets of the same, or of poultry, boiled and cold. 

Gravy. 

One-fourth the quantity of fine bread-crumbs that 
you have of meat. 

Season with pepper and salt. 

Raw egg, beaten, for binding the mixture together, 
also some in a separate vessel for coating the cro- 
quettes. 

Fine cracker-crumbs. 

Mince the meat, and pound the giblets in a Wedge- 
wood mortar, when you have removed skin and carti- 
lage from the gizzards. Moisten with gravy as you 
pound, until all are smooth. Mix into this the raw egg 
and seasoning, then the meat, lastly the bread-crumbs. 
Mould, dip in egg, then in cracker-powder and fry in 
boiling fat. The dripping from roast poultry may be 
used for this purpose. Vot¢ that from beef or mutton, 
as it spoils the flavor of the game. 3 

It is easy to reserve giblets for this dish by a little 
foresight, and in no other shape are they more useful. 


VEAL AND Ham CroQuUETTES. 


Cold roast or stewed veal, the remnants of cutlets or 
chops, freed from bone, skin and gristle, and minced 


fine. 
4* 


82 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Half the quantity of cold boiled ham. A little fat 
on a slice, now and then, is an improvement. 

Gravy or drawn butter thickened with browned flour 
to moisten the meat. 

One-fourth as much fine bread-crumbs as you have 
meat. 

Yolks of one or two eggs, boiled hard and powdered, 
then beaten into the gravy. 

Season with chopped parsley and pepper. The ham 
usually supplies suflicient salt. 

Beaten egg and powdered cracker. 

Raw egg for the lzazson. 

Mix veal and ham well together; wet with the gravy 
and season before putting in the raw egg. Stir up 
well, but do not beat, and add the crumbs. 

Roll in egg and cracker, and fry. 

Mem. The fat in which croquettes are frred must 
be bowing, yet must not burn. 

Try a bit of the mixture before risking the well-being 
of your whole dish. 


Hominy Croquertes. >}« 


2 large cups of fine-grained hominy, boiled and 
cold. 

2 egos, well beaten. 

2 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 

Salt to taste. 

Work the butter well into the hominy an the latter 
is smooth and soft, then the eggs, beating hard for two 
or three minutes with a wooden spoon, season, and 
make into balls or rolls with floured hands. Roll each 
in flour, and fry to a yellow-brown in sweet lard. 





AURORE ern ainanmer oe raw nate ne 


OROQUETTES. 83 


Potato CRroQueETTEs. >} 


2 cups mashed potato, cold and free from lumps. 

2 eggs beaten to a froth. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

Salt and pepper to taste. 

1 eee beaten in a separate vessel. 

1 teacupful cracker-crumbs. 

Mix as you do hominy croquettes, roll in egg and 
cracker, and fry in boiling lard. Take up as soon as 
they are done, and drain perfectly dry. 

This is an excellent preparation of potato, and par- 
ticularly acceptable at breakfast or luncheon. 


Rick CrogurEtres. >f« 


2 cups cold boiled rice. 

2 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 

3 eggs, beaten light. 

A little flour. . 

1 raw egg and half a cup of powdered cracker. 

2 table-spoonfuls white sugar. 

A large pinch of finely grated lemon-peel, and salt 
to taste. 

Beat eggs and sugar together until light, and work 
the butter well into the rice. Next, stir up with this 
the beaten eggs. Season and make into croquettes 
of whatever shape you may fancy. They are pretty, 
moulded into the form of pears, with a clove blossom, 
end outward, at the large end, and the stalk of another 
projecting from the small, to represent the pear-stem. 
You may find it advisable to use a little flour in work- 
ing the rice paste, but be careful not to get it too stiff, 


84 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


in which event the croquette, of whatever composed, 
ceases to be a delicacy. Roll in flour, then in the 
beaten egg, lastly in the powdered cracker, and fry, a 
few at a time, in sweet lard or butter. 

Rice croquettes are sometimes eaten, with powdered 
sugar sprinkled thickly over them, as a dessert, or sweet 
sauce is served with them. They are delicious when 


properly mixed and cooked. 


CANNELON OF VEAL. Pha 


2 pounds of cold roast or stewed veal. The remains 
of a stewed and stuffed fillet are good for this purpose, 
especially if underdone. 

1 pound cold boiled ham. 

1 large cupful gravy. If you have none left over, 
make it of the refuse bits of the cold meat, such as fat, 
skin, ete. 

1 small teaspoonful finely minced lemon-peel, the 
same of mace, and a table-spoonful chopped parsley. 

Salt and pepper. 

1 cupful bread-crumbs, dry and fine. 

Yolks of 3 eggs beaten light, reserving the whites 
for glazing the cannelon when done. 

Chop the meat very well, season it and stir in the 
beaten yolks; wet with half the gravy, and mix in the 
bread-crumbs. It should be just soft enough to handle 
without running into ashapeless mass. flour your 
hands and make it into a roll about three times as long 
as it is broad. Flour the outside well and lay it in a 
greased baking-pan. Cover and set in the oven until 


CROQUETTES. 85 


it is smoking hot, when remove the cover and brown 
quickly. Draw to the oven-door and brush over with 
white of egg, shut the door for one minute to set this, 
and transfer the cannelon, by the help of a cake-turner 
or a wooden paddle, to a hot dish. Lay three-cornered 
pieces of fried bread close about it, and pour a rich 
gravy over all. 

You can makea really elegant dish of this by add- 
ing to the gravy a half-pint of sliced mushrooms, and 
stewing them in it until they are tender and savory, 
then pouring them over the rouleau of meat. 

A savory and inexpensive dish, and a good entrée at 
a family dinner. Of course you can vary the size to 
suit the remnants of meat. 


CANNELON OF BEEF 


Is made precisely like one of veal, except that 
mashed potato is substituted for bread-crumbs, and an 
onion is stewed in the gravy before the latter is strained 
over the baked roll of meat. 

Green pickles or olives are a palatable accompani- 
ment to it. 


A Prerry Breaxrast Disa 


May be made of croquettes of fish, lobster, fowl or 
meat in the shape of hen’s eggs, heaped upon a dish 
and surrounded by very thin strips of fried potato, 
arranged to look as much as possible like straw. If 
sauce is poured over the croquettes, be careful not to 
let it deluge the potato that forms the nest. 


SWEETBREADS. 


Ir is usually necessary to bespeak sweetbreads several 
days in advance, as they are both scarce and popular. 
But if your butcher be accommodating, and yourself 
a valued customer, there is seldom much difficulty in 
procuring enough to make a dish for a family of ordi- 
nary size. : 

Keep sweetbreads in a cold, dry place, and cook as 
soon as possible after getting them, as they soon spoil. 
Be careful, moreover, in cooking them, to see that they 
are thoroughly done. 


Brown FricassrE or Sweerpreaps, (No. 1.) of 


4 sweetbreads. 

2 cups brown veal gravy, strong and well-seasoned. 

4 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

Pinch of mace, and twice as much cloves. 

Browned flour for thickening. 

1 teaspoonful chopped onion, stewed in, and then 
strained out of the gravy. ? 

Wash the sweetbreads carefully in warm water, re- 
moving every bit of skin and gristle. Lay them in a © 
saucepan, and cover with boeing water. Boil them 
ten minutes hard, turn off the hot water, and plunge 
them instantly into very cold, in which you have dis- 
solved a little salt. Leave them in this about fifteen 


SWENTBREADS. 87 


minutes, or until they are cool, white and firm. Cut 
each crosswise into slices nearly half an inch thick. 
Have ready the butter in the frying-pan, and fry the 
slices, turning frequently, until they are a good brown, 
but do not dry them up. Drain off the fat through a 
cullender, lay the sliced sweetbreads within a sauce- 
pan, pour the hot brown gravy, already seasoned, over 
them, cover closely, and simmer, not boil, fifteen min- 
utes longer. 


Brown Fricasser. (No. 2.) of 


4 sweetbreads. 

2 cups good brown gravy—veal is best. Spice with 
mace and cloves. | 

1 onion. 

% cup butter. 

1 pint mushrooms. 

Prepare the sweetbreads by boiling and blanching 
as in previous receipt. Slice the onion and mush- 
rooms, and fry quickly to a fine brown in half the 
butter. Strain the fat from these, and return it to the 
frying-pan, adding the rest of the butter. When hiss- 
ing hot, put in the sliced sweetbreads. Turn over and 
over in the fat for three minutes. Meanwhile, let the 
fried onions and mushrooms be stewing in the gravy. 
Pour this gravy, when the sweetbreads are ready, into 
a jar or tin pail with a closely-fitting top; set it ina 
pot of boiling water, taking care there is not enough 
to bubble over the top, put in the sliced sweetbreads, 
cover, and stew gently at the side of the range for 
twenty minutes—half an hour, should the sweetbreads 
be large. Arrange the slices symmetrically upon a 


88 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


hot platter, pour the gravy over them, when you have 
added a thickening of browned flour, and serve. 

There is no more palatable preparation of sweet- 
breads than this, especially if you add to the gravy a 
glass of brown sherry. Garnish with triangles of 
fried bread. 


Wuirt FricassEx or SwEETBREADS. >}« 


3 fine sweetbreads. 

3 eggs, 

4 table-spoonfuls of cream. 

1 great spoonful of butter. 

1 teaspoonful chopped parsley. 

A good pinch of nutmeg. 

1 cup strong veal or lamb broth—never mutton. 

Wash the sweetbreads well. Soak them in very cold 
or ice-water, slightly salted, for half an hour. Blanch 
by plunging them for an instant into boiling water, after 
which lay for five minutes in ice-water. This process 
makes them white and firm. Put them into a covered 
saucepan with the broth, which must be well seasoned 
with pepper and salt, and, if you like, a very slight touch 
of onion. Sprinkle with nutmeg, cover closely, and stew 
steadily for an hour, if the sweetbreads are of a fair 
size, and you mean to serve them whole. If they have 
been sliced, three-quarters of an hour is sufficient. 

Heat the cream in another saucepan until scalding 
hot, but not boiling. Take it from the fire, and stir 
carefully, a little at a time, into the beaten eggs. Just 
before the sweetbreads are taken from the fire, add 
this mixture slowly, stirring all the time. Leave it in 
the saucepan just long enough to cook the eggs, but 


’ 7 EEE YS ee L 


SWEETBREADS. 89 


do not Jetit boil. Stir in the parsley at the same time. 
Turn out in a hot covered dish. 


LARDED SWEETBREADS STEWED. 


3 fine sweetbreads. 

+ pound fat salt pork, cut into long narrow strips. 

1 cup good veal gravy. 

1 small pinch of cayenne pepper. 

1 table-spoonful of mushroom catsup. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

Parboil the sweetbreads for five minutes. The wa- 
ter should be boiling when they are put in. Plunge 
immediately into very cold salt water. Let them lie 
in this for five minutes, wipe them dry with a soft, 
clean cloth, and lay upon a cool dish until per- 
fectly cold. Lard them closely with the strips of salt 
pork. Stew gently for twenty-five minutes in the gra- 
vy, which must be rich and thick. Add lemon-juice, 
catsup, cayenne, and, if needed, a little salt. Lay the 
sweetbreads in order on a flat dish, pour the gravy over 
them, and garnish with sliced lemon laid in the triangu. 
lar spaces left between three-cornered bits of fried toast, 

N.B. A pleasant addition to this dish, as to the brown 
fricassee of sweetbreads, is force-meat of chopped beef 
or veal very finely minced and worked to a paste 
with hard-boiled yolk of egg, a little crumbed bread, a 
spoonful or two of gravy or butter. Season very highly, 
work in the beaten yolk of a raw ege to bind the 
mixture, and make into oval balls a little larger than 
olives. Flour these, and lay on a floured plate, so as 
not to touch one another. Set in a quick oven until 
they are firm and hissing hot, garnish the dish with them 


90 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


instead of the sliced lemon, and pour the hot gravy over 
them and the triangles of toast as well as the sweet- 
breads. An outer circle of parsley looks well with 
these. 


LarpeD SwWEETBREAD—F RIED. >f< 


3 or 4 sweetbreads. 

4 or 5 slices very fat salt pork. 

A little pepperrs 

Parboil, blanch and lard, as in preceding receipt. 
Have ready a clean, hot frying-pan barely greased with 
a little butter. Put in the sweetbreads, and fry with- 
out other fat than that of the pork lardoons which 
should project half an inch on each side of the sweet- 
breads. Cook steadily, turning the sweetbreads fre- 


quently, until they are of a nice brown. Out into one 


with a small sharp knife, to assure yourself that it is 
done. Remove to a hot, well-buttered dish, and garnish 
with sprigs of parsley, which have been -crisped, but 
not burned, in a little boiling butter. 


Brorrep SwEETBREADS. >fa 


Parboil and blanch, as already directed, by putting 
first into hot water, and keeping it at a fast boil for 
five minutes, then plunging into ice-cold, a little 
salted. When the sweetbreads have lain in this ten 
minutes, wipe them very dry, and with a sharp knife 
split each in half, lengthwise. Broil over a clear, hot 
fire, turning every minute as they begin to drip. Have 
ready upon a deep plate some melted butter, well 
salted and peppered, mixed with catsup or pungent 
sauce. When the sweetbreads are done to a fine 





SWEETBREADS. 91 


brown lay them in this, turning them over several 
times, and set, covered, in a warm oven. 

Lay rounds of fried bread or toast within a chafing- 
dish, and a piece of sweetbread on each. Pour the 
rest of the hot butter, in which they have been lying, 
over them, and send to table. : 


RoasteD SWEETBREADS. 


3 sweetbreads. 

1 cup brown gravy—veal, if you can get it. 

2 eggs, beaten light. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter, melted. 

Large handful of bread-crumbs. 

1 table-spoonful mushroom or tomato catsup. 

1 small glass brown sherry. 

A very little onion, minced fine, and stewed in the 
gravy. ere 

Soak the sweetbreads in tepid water for half an 
hour; then boil in hot water ten minutes, plunging 
into very cold at the end of this time. Wipe perfectly 
dry, coat with the beaten egg, then with the bread- 
crumbs. Repeat this until they are thickly and closely 
covered. Lay upon a baking-pan, put the butter, a 
little at a time, over them, that it may soak into the 
crumbs; set in a moderate oven,turn another pan over 
them, and bake, covered, three-quarters of an hour, if of 
fair size, basting from time to time with the veal 
gravy. Dish them upon toast or fried bread, give the 
gravy a boil-up when you have added the catsup and 
wine, and strain it over the sweetbreads. 


92 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


SwEETBREADS Sautks Au VIN. >} 


3 sweetbreads. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. — 

1 table-spoonful chopped onion and parsley, mixed. 
1 cup brown gravy—veal or fowl. 

1 glass brown sherry or fresh champagne. 

Salt and pepper to taste. 

1 table-spoonful mushroom, or tomato catsup. 
Parboil and blanch the sweetbreads, as usual; let 





them get perfectly cold; cut lengthwise into slices. 


about a quarter of an inch thick. Have the butter hot 
in a frying-pan, and lay them in. Cook ten minutes, 
shaking, tossing and turning them all the while; then 
add the gravy, catsup, onion, parsley and other season- 
ing previously heated together. Shake all until they 
have stewed and bubbled at boiling-heat for five min- 
utes, put in the wine, boil up ouce, and pour into a hot 
dish. 


on 


KIDNEYS, 


Although less liked generally, are yet esteemed a 
bonne bouche by the epicure whose appetite has been 
educated by what is commonly styled “ fancy ” cook- 
ery. They are cheaper than sweetbreads, and less 
difficult to keep, if less delicate in flavor. 


Frimep Kipneys. 


8 fine large kidneys—the fresher the better. 

3 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

4 cup of good brown gravy—veal, mutton or beef. 

A teaspoonful of chopped parsley, and half as much 
minced onion. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Skin the kidneys, and cut crosswise into round slices 
a quarter of an inch thick. oll them in flour. 
Have ready in a frying-pan the butter well seasoned 
with pepper, a little salt, the parsley and onion. When 
it begins to simmer over the fire, lay in evenly and 
carefully the slices of kidney. Iry gently for two 
minutes, turn, and let them fry as long on the other 
side, or until they are of a light brown. If cooked too 
much, or too fast, they become tough and tasteless. 
Remove instantly from the frying-pan with an egg- 
beater or perforated skimmer, and arrange in order on 


a hot dish. Add to the gravy in the pan, a few table- 


94 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


spoonfuls of broth, thicken with browned flour, boil up 
once, and pour over the kidneys. 


Or, 


You can substitute for the butter in the pan three or 
four table-spoonfuls of chopped ,fa¢ salt pork. Let it 
heat to hissing, put in the seasoning, stir up well and 
fry the kidneys with the bits of pork. Then, proceed 
according to the latter part of the foregoing receipt. 


Toastep KimnNeys. 


3 kidneys skinned and split lengthwise, each into 3 
pieces. 

+ pound of fat salt pork, cut into slices. 

Pepper and salt. 

Slices or rounds of toasted bread from which the 
crust has been pared. 

Lay the kidneys upon a very hot plate (a tin one is 
best) in front of, and on a level with a clear brisk fire. 
Toast the pork upon a fork, slice by slice, holding it 
so that the gravy will drip upon the kidneys beneath. 
When the pork is done, lay it upon another hot plate, 
and set this in the place just occupied by the kidneys. 
Toast these in their turn, so that the gravy which falls 
from them shall drop upon the pork. Turn them fre- 
quently, and be careful not to lose a drop of the gravy 
from kidneys or pork. When the gravy ceases to flow 
the kidneys are done. Serve upon the toast on a hot 
dish ; cut the pork into strips, and lay along the sides 
of the dish. Pour the gravy over kidneys and toast. 
This latter should either be fried previously in butter, 
or be well buttered if toasted in the usual way. Pep- 


KIDNEYS. 95 


per and salt just before sending to table, as salt hardens 
and toughens the kidneys. 


Kapnreys StEwED witH WINE. 

3 kidneys. 

3 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

1 onion, minced. 

1 table-spoonful mushroom, or walnut catsup. 

8 table-spoonfuls rich brown gravy. 

1 glass of claret. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Cut the kidneys into round slices. Heat the butter 
to a boil in a frying-pan, stir in the chopped onion, then 
lay in the slices of kidney, and fry two minutes. Have 
in another vessel the gravy, catsup and wine, ready 
heated. Take up the kidneys, draining from them 
every drop of fat, and transfer to this gravy. Cover 
closely, stew Rea for five minutes, or until tender, 
and serve directly. 


Bromep Kipneys. 

2 kidneys. 

2 table-spoonfuls of melted butter. 

Pepper and salt, and a little chopped parsley. 

Skin the kidneys carefully, but do not slice or split 
them. Lay for ten minutes in warm (not hot) melted 
butter, rolling them over and over, that every part may 
be well basted. Broil on a gridiron over a clear fire, 
turning them every minute. They should be done in 
about twelve minutes, unless very large. Sprinkle 
with salt and pepper, and lay on a hot dish, with a bit 
of butter upon each. Cover and send up immediately. 


96 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. : 


Srewep Kipneys. 

3 kidneys. 

3 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 

Juice of half a lemon, and a pinch of grated lemon- 
peel. 

A very little mace, and pepper and salt to taste. 

1 teaspoonful chopped onion. 

1 cup good brown gravy. 

Cut each kidney lengthwise into three pieces; wash 
these well and wipe dry. Warm the butter in a frying- 
pan; put in the kidneys before this is really hot, with 
the seasoning and gravy. Simmer all together, closely 
covered, about ten minutes. Add the lemon-juice ; 
take up the kidneys and lay upon a hot dish, with fried 
or toasted bread underneath. Thicken the gravy with 
browned flour, boil up once, pour over all, and serve. 


Kipneys A LA BROcHETTE. 


4 kidneys—those of medium size are preferable to 
large. 

2 great spoonfuls of butter. 

1 great spoonful chopped parsley, onion, and very 
fine bread-crumbs. 

Juice of half a lemon. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Split the kidneys lengthwise, but not quite through, 
leaving enough meat and skin at one side to act asa 
sort of hinge. Rub them well inside with melted 
butter, and lay them open, as you would small birds, 
_the back downward, upon a buttered gridiron, over a 
bright fire. They should be done in about eight min- 





KIDNEYS. 97 


utes. Turn often while broiling. Have ready the 
stuffing of crumbs, parsley, onion, and butter, well 
seasoned. Heat in a saucepan, stirring until smoking 
hot. Add the lemou-juice ; dish the kidneys, put some 
of this mixture inside of each, close the two sides upon 
it, butter and pepper them, and serve. 

A few bits of fat salt pork, minced very fine, gives a 
good flavor to the stuffing. The pork should have been 
previously cooked. 


5 


HASTE OR WASTE? 


—— a 


“An! you forget my sedan-chair,” said Madame de 
Staél, when, at the height of her social and literary fame 
some one wondered how she found time for writing 
amid her many and engrossing engagements. 

The sedan-chair was the fashionable conveyance for 
ladies, at that day, in their round of daily calls or even- 
ing festivities, and the brilliant Frenchwoman secured 
within its closed curtains the solitude and silence she 
needed for composition. 

An American authoress who wrote much and with 
great care—neyver sending her brain-bantlings into the © 
world en déshabille—replied to a similar question: 
“My happiest thoughts come to me while I am mixing 
cake. My most serious study-hours are those devoted 
apparently to darning the family stockings.” | 

I entered a street-car, not many days ago, and sat q 
down beside a poate who did not lift his eyes 
from a book he was reading, or show, by any token, his 
consciousness of others’ presence. A side-glance at the 
volume told me it was Froude’s “ History of England,” 
and I cheerfully forgave his inattention to myself. The 
conductor notified him when he reached his stopping- 
place, and, with a readiness that betrayed admirable 
mental training, he came out of the world through 
which the fascinating historian was leading him, pock- 





HASTE OR WASTE ? . 99 


eted his book, recognized me with a pleasant word, 
and stepped to the pavement in front of his store, the 
thorough business man. | 

“ That is an affected prig,” said a fellow-passenger, 
by the time the other had left the car. “He andI take 
this ride in company every morning and afternoon. It 
takes him half an hour to go from his house to his 
store ; and, instead of amusing himself with his news- 
paper, as the rest of us do, he always has some heavy- 
looking book along—biography, or history, or a scien- 
tific treatise. He begins to read by the time he is 
seated, and never leaves off until he gets out. It is in 
wretched taste, such a show of pedantic industry.” 

After this growl of disapprobation, the speaker buried 
himself anew in the advertising columns of the Herald, 
and I lapsed into a brown study, which had for its 
germ the query, “Is it; then, more respectable, even 
among men, to kill time than to save it?” 

IT knew the reader of Froude well. He was, as I 
have intimated, a successful and a busy merchant ; and 
I had often marvelled at his familiarity with English 
belles-lettres, and graver literature, the study of which 
is usually given up to so-called professional men. 
That hour a day explained it all.: The crowded street- 
car was his sedan-chair. I also knew his critic; had 
seen him placed at such a woful disadvantage in the 
society of educated men and women, that my heart 
ached and my cheeks burned in. sympathy with his 
mortification ; had heard him deplore the deficiencies 
of his early training, and that the exigencies of his 
business-cares now made self-improvement impracti- 
cable. He would have protested it to be an impossibility 


100 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA, 


that he could find a spare hour a day to devote to the 
neglected task; six hours a week—a whole day in a 
mouth, two eee ina year. Yet a fortnight of news- 
papeeresaan and idle gossip would be a sorry entry 
in his year-book. For this lazy murder of time can- 
not, by any stretch of conscience, be classed as health- 
ful recreation, any more than can the one, two, three, 
ten hours a week during which Mrs. Neverthink sits 
with folded hands, discussing fashions and her neigh- 
bors’ frailties, the while her work is steadily doubling 
itself up, snowball-like, before the lever of each idle 
minute. All work and no play would make Mrs. Nev- 
erthink a dull and a diseased woman; but the fact is, 
she is not playing any more than she is working, as she 
sits, or stands to parley about trifles. She is only wast- 
ing time, making inevitable the haste. Oh! these 
“few words more,” with which the Neverthink tribe 
prolong the agony of their would-be-if-they-could in- 
dustrious sisters, and heap up the burden of their own 
coming cares! The words which mean nothing, the 
driblets of a shallow, sluggish stream that meanders 
into anybody’s meadow, and spreads itself harmfully 
over the nearest pastures, instead of being directed into 
a straight, beneficent channel! “I haven’t a bit of 
system about me!” wails the worried creature, when 
the ponderous snow-ball has finally to be heayed out of 
the way by her own hands. 

It would be a matter of curious interest could I re- 
count how often I have heard this plaint from those of 
my own sex who are thus straining and suffering. 
From some it comes carelessly—a form of words they 
have fallen into the habit of repeating without much 





HASTE OR WASTE? 101 


thought of what they mean. With a majority (I wish 
I were not obliged to say it!) it is rather a hoast than 
a lament. The notable housekeeper who would be 
ashamed to admit that she does not look narrowly after 
paper and twine, bits of cold meat and scraps of butter, 
does not calculate wisely concerning coal, candle-ends 
and erusts—confesses, without a blush, that she takes 
no thought of the gold-dust, known among us as min- 
utes and seconds, sifting through her lax fingers. By 
and by, she is as truly impoverished as if she had 
thrown away the treasure in nuggets, and then comes 
the lament, not repentance. She is “ run to death with 
work, but she doesn’t see how it is to be helped. All 
other housekeepers are the same. She never could 
economize time; has no genius for arranging. her 
labors to advantage.” 

The building of such an one is the heaping. together 
of boulders with crevices between, through which the 
winds of disappointment whistle sharply. System,—by 
which we mean a sagacious and economical apportion- 
ment of the duty to the hour and the minute; an 
avoidance of needless waste of time; a courageous 
putting forth of the hand to the plough, instead of 
talking over the work to be done while the cool morn- 
ing moments are flying,—“‘ System,” then, is not a 
talent! I wish I could write this in terms so strong 
and striking as to command the attention, enforce the 
belief of those whom I would reach. It is nota talent. 
Still less is it genius. It is a duty! and she who 
shirks it does herself and others wrong. If you cannot 
order your household according to this rule, the fault 
is yours, and the misfortune theirs. 


102 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


“We are living too fast!” is the useless note of 
alarm sounded from press, and pulpit, and lecture- 
room; echoed in a thousand homes, in various accents 
of regret and dismay; most fearfully by the rattling 
clods upon the coffin-lid, that hides forever the care- 
worn face of wife and mother, who has been trampled 
to death by the press of iron-footed cares. Is not this 
haste begotten by waste ¢ 

Is there any good reason why, in our homes—yours 
and mine, my toiling sister—and in those of our neigh- 
bors to the right and left of us, should not reign such 
method as prevails in our husbands’ places of business? 
Why, instead of meeting the morning with uplifted 
hands and the already desponding cry, “I have so 
much to do I cannot decide what to lay hold of first!” 
we should not behold our path already mapped out by 
our provident study over-night—its certain duties; its 
probable stumbling-blocks; recreation, devotion and 
rest—each in its proper place?’ Why we should not 
be ready, “ heart within and God o’erhead,” to make 
the new day an event in our lives, a stepping-stone to 
higher usefulness to our kind and toward heayen? 
Why we should not bring to hindrance, as to duty, the 
resolute, hopeful purpose with which the miner bends 
over his pickaxe, the gardener over his spade, the 
book-keeper over his ledger? Why, in short, we 
should not magnify our office—make of housewifery, 
and child-tending, and sewing a profession—to be 
studied as diligently and pursued as steadily as are the 
avocations of the other sex ? 

I should not dare ask these questions, were I not 
already convinced, by years of patient examination of 


HASTE OR WASTE ? 103 


the subject, that it is feasible for a clear-headed, con- 
scientious woman to do all this,and more. Would not 
“ dare,” because I know by what a storm of indignant 
protest the queries will be met, not only from those 
who pride themselves upon the amiable foible of 
“having no system,” but on the part of deep-hearted 
women who are really anxious to do their share of this 
world’s great work. 

. The pale-faced mother over the way will tell me of 
the clutch of baby-fingers upon her garments whenever 
she essays to move steadily onward, and how the pres- 
sure of the same holds her eyes waking through the 
night-watches; how the weight of baby-lips upon the 
breast saps strength and vitality together. Dear and 
precious cares she esteems these; but they leave little 
time or energy for anything else. The matron, whose 
. younglings have outgrown childhood, is ready with her 
story of the toils and distractions of a family of merry 
girls who are “in society,” and inconsiderate, un- 
- punctual “ boys,” who look to “ mother ” to supply, for 
the present, the place of the coming wife to each of 
them. Martha, wedded and middle-aged, but child- 
less, is overpowered by cares, “put upon her by every- 
body,” she relates, with an ever-renewed sense of 
injury wearing into her soul, “because it is believed 
that women without children have nothing to do.” 

One and all, they are eloquent upon the subject of 
unforeseen vexations, the ever-hindering “ happenings ” 
that, like the knots tied in wire-grass across the path 
by mischievous fairies, are continually tripping them 
up. 

“ Moreover,” says Mrs. Practical, “ there is little use 


104 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


in attempting to be methodical and to save the scraps 
of time unless other people do. We are liable to have 
our precious hoard stolen at any moment. If my 
next-door neighbor persists in ‘ dropping in’ whenever 
she feels lonely, or wants a receipt, or has a morsel of 
news she cannot keep, and cannot withdraw her un- 
seasonable foot from my house under an hour at each 
visit, of what avail are my watchfulness and dili- 
gence?” 

With her accustomed shrewdness, Mrs. Practical has 
put her finger upon the hardest knot of the tangle. 
Says that other model of sterling, every-day sense, 
Miss Betsy Trotwood, touching Mr. Micawber’s diffi- 
culties: “If. he is going to be continually arrested, his 
friends have got to be continually bailing him out— 
that is all!” | 

The family of Neverthinks (“may their tribe de- 
crease!) act upon the reverse principle. If their ac- 
quaintances will be continually working themselves 
into line with the flying hours, they—the Neverthinks 
—must be zealous in pulling them to the rear. They 
are like an army of mice scampering through the tidy 
cupboards of Mesdames Practical and Notable. They 
claim, like Death, all seasons for their own. Against 
such there is no recognized law, and no redress except 
in the determined will and wise co-operation of their 
victims. 

Dropping the fictitious personages, let us talk of this 
matter plainly, as face-to-face, dear reader! Why 
have women, as a class, such an imperfect conception 
of the value of time to themselves and to others? To 
Mrs. Trollope belongs, I believe, the credit of bringing 


HASTE OR WASTE 2 105 


into general use a word which, if not elegant, is so ex- 
pressive that I cannot do without it in this connection. 
Why do women dawdle away seconds and minutes and 
hours in playing at work, or affecting to play? <A 
clever young girl was once showing me a set of chairs 
embroidered by herself. Knowing that she was her 
mother’s efficient aid in the cares entailed by a large 
family, I asked her how she had made the time for the 
achievement. 

“QO! 1 did it in the detweenities/” she returned, 
gayly. “Between prayers and breakfast ; between the 
children’s lessons ; between the spring and fall sew- 
ing; between morning and evening calls, and in a 
Raton other gaps. I We a piece of it Apes within 
reach, and every stitch taken was a gain of one.” 

We all need play—recreation, wholesome and hearty 
diversion. I would guard this point carefully.. God- 
willing, we will talk of it, more at length, some time; 
but to make the day’s a oe even. and close, our life’s 
work rich and ample, we must look well after the 
“betweenities.” 

Let me probe a little more deeply yet. lave not 
the prejudices and gallantries of generations had their 
effect upon the formation of feminine opinions on this 
head? begotten in many minds the impression that we 
are unjustly dealt with in being obliged to take up and 
carry forward as a life-long duty any business whatso- 
ever? Is not the unspoken thought of such persons one 
of impatient disappointment at finding that earth is not 
a vast pleasure-ground and existence one long, bright 
holiday? If men will speak of and treat women as 
pretty Reregs, they at least should not complain 


106 - BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


when the dainty toy proves to be an unserviceable do- 
mestic machine. A man who acknowledges that he 
dislikes the business by which he earns his living is 
looked upon with instant distrust, as silly, indolent, or, ~ 
at the best, unphilosophical. If his auditor has occasion 
to avail himself of the services of one of the craft to 
which the unwilling workman belongs, he will assur- 
edly seek a man who would be likely to do himself 
and his employer more credit than can be given by his 
half-hearted labor. But housewives confess freely that 
they loathe housekeeping and all pertaining thereto. 
I speak that which I do know when I say that where 
you find one who works con amore in her profession, 
there are two who drudge on grumblingly, and consider 
themselves aggrieved because the morning brings labor 
and the evening care. The fault begins very far back. 

“Tf girls knew when they were well off, they would 
never marry.” 

“ A butterfly before marriage—a grub afterward.” 

“Let well enough alone.” 

“She who weds may do well. She who remains 
single certainly does better.” 

These are specimens of the choice maxims shouted 
from the reefs of matrimony to the pleasure-shallops 
gliding over the summer sea beyond the breakers. By 
the time the boy begins to walk and talk, the sagacious 
father studies his tastes and capacity in selecting a 
trade for him ; puts him fairly in training for the same 
so soon as he is well embarked in his teens; sees for 
himself that his drill is thorough and his progress satis- 
factory. Of the lad’s sisters their mother will tell you, 
with tears in her eyes, that she “ cannot bear to tie the 


HASTE OR WASTE? 107 


dear girls down to regular duties. Let them take 
their pleasure now, for when they marry, trouble and 
responsibility must come.” 

Not seeing that to the unskilled apprentice the prac- 
tice of his art must be cruelly hard; that her own 
loving hands are making tight the lashings of the load 
which the tender shoulders must bear until death cuts 
the sharp cords ; that in her mistaken indulgence she 
is putting darkness for light, and light for darkness ; 
bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. 


MEATS, INCLUDING POULTRY 
AND GAME. 


Caur’s Liver a 2 Angluse. > 


2 pounds fresh liver. 

4 pound fat salt pork. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

1 small shallot, minced very fine. 

1 teaspoonful chopped parsley. 

Cut the liver into slices half an inch thick. Lay 
these smoothly in a saucepan in which the butter has 
already been melted, but not allowed to get hot. Chop 
the pork into very small bits, and spread upon the 
liver. Sprinkle over this the minced parsley and onion, 
and season to your fancy with salt and pepper. Cover 
the saucepan closely, and set it where it will heat so 
moderately that the juices will be drawn out without 
simmering. Care must be taken to observe this direc- 
tion exactly, as both the tenderness and flavor of the 
liver are impaired by stewing. At the end of an hour 
and a half increase the heat gradually until the con- 
tents of the saucepan begin to bubble. Remove from 
the fire; arrange the liver neatly upon a hot chafing- 
dish, and keep this covered while you boil up and 
thicken with a little browned flour the gravy left in the 
saucepan. Pour over the liver and serve. 

This process renders calf’s liver tender and juicy to 
a degree that would seem incredible to those who know 


* MEATS. 109 


the much-abused edible only through the medium of 
the usual modes of cookery. 

Try it, when you are at a loss for something new, yet 
not expensive. 


Caur’s Liver au Domino. 


2 pounds liver. 

% pound fat salt pork. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

Seasoning of pepper, parsley and onion. 

Cut the liver in pieces less than half an inch thick, 
and rather more than an inch square. String these 
evenly upon a slender skewer (an old knitting-needle 
will do) alternately with bits of fat pork of the same 
shape and width. When the skewer is full, lay for ten 
minutes in the melted butter, season with pepper (the 
pork salting it sufficiently), minced onion, and parsley, 
then lay in a baking-pan, and cover with a tin plate or 
shallow pan. Cook slowly in a moderate oven until 
the pork begins to crisp. Remove to a hot dish, draw 
out the skewer carefully, so as to leave the liver in the 
form in which it was cooked; add a little hot water 
and butter to the gravy, thicken with browned flour, boil 
up once, and pour over the dominoes of pork and liver. 


OuLaPopRIDA oF Lams. ((ood.) 


The sweetbreads, liver, heart, kidneys, and brains of 
alamb. (Your butcher can easily procure all with 
timely notice.) 

Handful of bread-crumbs. 

1 raw egg, beaten light. 

One smal], young onion, minced. 


110 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. #* 


1 table-spoonful currant jelly. 

Season with salt, pepper, and parsley. 

1 cup good broth- 

Parboil the sweetbreads for five minutes, then sim- 
mer for ten in the gravy. Take them up, and set aside 
to cool, while you boil the brains in the same broth. 
When both brains and sweetbreads are cold and firm, 
slice, dip in the egg, then the crumbs, and fry in good 
dripping or butter. After the brains are taken from the 
broth, put in the slices of heart, and stew very gently 
for at least half an hour. Let them cool, then fry 
with the minced liver in dripping seasoned with the 
onion, minced fine. Slice the kidneys, and having 
strained the useful broth from the liver, return it to 
the saucepan, and stew the kidneys in it for five 
minutes. Next, fry these for two minutes—no more— 
in butter. 

Arrange all in a hot dish; add to the fat left in the 
frying-pan the broth, thicken with browned flour and 
the jelly, season to taste, and pour over the sweet- 
breads, ete. 

You can make a larger stew—or fry—of calf’s sweet- 
breads, liver, heart, and brains, and by most people 
this would be relished more than the lamb ollapodrida. 

It is a good plan to stew the various articles the day 
before you mean to eat them, and have them all cold 
to your hand, ready for frying. | 


Caur’s Liver sauté. »}« 


2 pounds calf’s liver, cut into slices half an inch thick. 
2 small young onions, minced. 
1 small glass of sherry. 





: MEATS. 111 


1 table-spoonful mushroom or tomato catsup. 

Salt, pepper, and parsley, with juice of alemon. 

Good dripping or butter for frying. 

Slice the liver, when you have washed and soaked it 
well, and fry it, turning often, to a light-brown. Drain 
and lay in a hot chafing-dish. Mix with the dripping 
or butter the onions, seasoning, lemon-juice, and brown- 
ed flour for thickening. Boil up, put in the catsup 
and wine, heat almost to boiling again, and pour over 
the liver. 


F'rIcAsseE oF Caur’s Liver. pj 


2 pounds liver, cut into strips more than half an 
inch thick, and as long as your finger. 

2 young onions, minced. 

1 glass wine. 

Pepper, salt and parsley. 

Butter or dripping for frying. 

% cup good gravy. 

Dr edge the sliced liver with flour, and fry toa light 
brown, Giddy. and turning often. Mince the onions 
and CaaS and heat them in the gravy in a saucepan ; 
put in the fried liver, let all stew together gently for ten 
minutes, when pour in the wine, and as soon as this is 
hot, serve—the liver piled neatly and the gravy poured 
over it. : 


Caur’s Liver a la mode. 


1 fine liver, as fresh as you can get it. 

% pound fat salt pork, cut into lardoons. 

3 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

2 young onions. 

1 table-spoonful Worcestershire or Harvey’s sauce. 


112 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


2 table-spoonfuls vinegar and a glass of wine. 

$ teaspoonful cloves. 

4 teaspoonful allspice. 

4 teaspoonful mace. 

1 table-spoonful sweet herbs, cut fine. 

Pepper and salt to taste—very little of the latter, 
as the pork should salt it sufficiently. 

Wash the liver in two waters and soak ten minutes 
in cold water, slightly salted. Wipe dry, make in- 
cisions in it about half an inch apart, and insert the 
lardoons, allowing them to project slightly on each 
side. Have ready in a frying-pan the sliced onion, 
butter, sweet herbs and spice. Put in the liver and 
fry toa good brown. Turn all into a saucepan, add 
the vinegar and just enough water to cover the liver. 
Cover closely, and simmer slowly an hour and a half. 
Take out the liver and lay on a hot dish, add the wine 
and sauce to the gravy, thicken with browned flour; let 
it boil up once, pour about the liver, and send up the 
surplus in a boat. 

This is good cold as well as hot, cut in thin slices. 


Racotr or Catr’s Heap, or Imrration Tortie. cfs 


Half of a cold boiled calf’s head. 

1 cup good gravy. 

4 hard-boiled eggs. 

About a dozen force-meat balls made of minced 
veal with bread-crumbs and bound with beaten egg, 
then rolled in flour. 

1 teaspoonful sweet herbs, chopped fine. 

A very little minced onion. 





’ MEATS. Ts 


Browned flour for thickening; pepper and salt for 
seasoning. 

1 glass brown sherry. 

Cut the meat of the calf’s head evenly into slices of 
uniform size. [Heat the gravy almost to a boil, with the 
seasoning, herbs and onion. Put in the meat, simmer, 
closely covered, for fifteen minutes; add the force- 
meat balls, wine and the eggs sliced. Let all become 
smoking hot; take up the meat; pile neatly on a hot 
dish, lay the eggs on it; the force-meat balls at the 
base of the heap, and pour a cupful of gravy over all, 
sending up the rest in a boat. 

This ragotit is very nice, and easily provided for by 
setting aside enough meat for it, on the day you have 
calf’s head soup, if the head be large. 

It is alsoa cheap dish, as even a large head seldom costs 
more than a dollar, and half will make a good ragoit. 


Ragotr or Carr's Heap ann Musurooms, ofa 


Half:a cold boiled calf’s head, sliced and free from 
bones, also the tongue cut in round slices. 

1 can French mushrooms (champignons). 

1 onion sliced. 

1 cup strong gravy—beef, veal, game or fowl. 

Season with pepper, salt and sweet herbs. 

Browned flour for thickening. 

4 teaspoonful mixed allspice and mace. 

Juice of a lemon. | 

1 glass wine—claret or sherry. 

3 table-spoontfuls butter for frying, unless you have 
very nice dripping. 

Drain the liquor from the mushrooms and slice them. 


114 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Fry the slices of meat five minutes in the hot butter 
or dripping. Take them out and put into a tin pail 
or inner compartment of a farina kettle. Pour warm, 
not boiling, water into the outer vessel, cover the inner 
and set over the fire while you fry the mushrooms, 
then, the onion, in the fat left in the frying-pan. 
Drain them and lay upon the meat in the inner sauce- 
pan. Jlave ready in another the broth, spiced and sea- 
soned, and now pour this hot upon the meat and mush- 
rooms. Cover closely and semmer for fifteen minutes. 
Strain off the gravy into a saucepan, thicken ; let it 
boil up once ; add wine and lemon-juce, and when it is 
again smoking hot, pour over the meat and mushrooms 
in a deep dish. 

Some strips of fried toast are an acceptable addition 
to this ragotit. ‘These should be laid on the heap of 
meat. ; 

I have also varied it satisfactorily, by putting in 
sliced hard-boiled eggs. It is a good entrée at dinner, 
and a capital luncheon or breakfast-dish. 


A Movtrp or Catr’s Heap. ofa 


A cold boiled calf’s head freed from bones and cut into 
thin slices—or so much of it as you need for your mould. 

6 hard-boiled eggs—also sliced. 

Five or six slices of cold boiled ham——corned is better 
than smoked. 

1 large cupful of the liquor in which the head was 
boiled, stewed down to arich gravy and well seasoned ~ 
with pepper, salt, mace and minced onion. Strain be- 
fore using. 

Line the bottom of a buttered mould with the slices 





MEATS. 115 


of ege also buttered on the outer side, that they may 
easily leave the mould. 

Salt and pepper them, then fill the mould with alter- 
nate layers of sliced calf’s head, ham, sliced eggs, sea- 
soning, etc., pouring in the gravy last. If you have no 
top for the mould, make a stiff paste of flour and water 
to close it in and preserve flavor and juices. 

When done, set it, still covered, in a cool place. 
When cold and firm, slice for luncheon or tea. 

Or ? 
You can chop both kinds of meat fine, also the eggs, 
and pack in successive layers within your mould. 


A. little lemon-juice and minced parsley, with a 
touch of catsup, will improve the gravy. 


Caur’s Brats F RIEp. 


The brains, well washed, and scalded in dodling water 
for two minutes, then laid in very cold. 

2 egos well beaten. 

A little flour and butter. 

Salt and pepper. 

Beat the brains, when perfectly cold, into a paste; 
season, add the eggs and enough flour to make a good 
batter, with less than a teaspoonful of butter to prevent 
toughness. Have ready some good dripping in the 
frying-pan, and when it is hissing hot, drop in the 
batter in spoonfuls and fry. 

Or— 
You can fry on the griddle, like cakes. 


They are very palatable either way when cooked 
quickly and freed of every clinging drop of grease. 


116 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Caur’s Brars on Toast. 

The brains. 

3 eggs, beaten light. 

Salt, pepper anes parsley. 

Six or eight rounds of fried bread. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

Soak the brains fifteen minutes; free from skin and 
fibre; then drop them into boiling water in which you 
have put a little salt and a teaspoonful of vinegar. 


Boil hard for ten minutes, then throw the brains into- 


ice-cold water. When well cooled break them up with 
a wooden or silver spoon ; and stir into the beaten eggs 
with the seasoning. Have ready the butter in a hot 
frying-pan, pour in the mixture and stir rapidly for 
two minutes, or until it is a soft mass like stirred eggs. 
Lay the toast upon a hot dish and heap the brains upon 
it. 

This dish is rendered yet more savory, if you will 
pour some good well-seasoned gravy over the mounds 
of brains and the toast. 


VEAL Cutiets (Stewed). rhe 


2 pounds veal cutlets, nicely trimmed. 

1 small onion, sliced. 

4 table-spoonfuls strained tomato sauce. 

Enough butter or clear dripping to fry the cutlets. 

Salt and pepper with a bunch of sweet herbs. 

$ cup gravy. 

Fry the cutlets to a light brown, but not crisp; take 
them out and put into a covered sancepan. Have 
ready the gravy in another, with the tomato sauce 





MEATS. 117 


stirred into it. Fry the onion in the fat from which you 
have taken the cutlets, and add with the fat to the gravy. 
Pour all over the cutlets and simmer, covered, twenty 
minutes. 

Mocx Picrons. ofa 
8 or 4 fillets of veal. 

Force-meat of bread-crumbs and minced pork, sea- 
soned. 

$ cup mushrooms and a little minced onion. 

1 sweetbread. 

A. dozen oysters. 

% cup strong brown gravy. 

1 glass of wine. 

Take the bone, if there be any, out of the fillets (or 
cutlets, or steaks) of veal ; spread each thickly with the 
force-meat, and roll up tightly, binding with pack- 
thread. Put intoa baking-pan with enough cold water 
to half-cover them ; turn another pan over them and 
bake from three-quarters of an hour to an hour in pro- 
portion to their size. Meanwhile, boil the sweetbread 
fifteen minutes, blanch in cold water; cut into dice, 
and put into a saucepan with the gravy, which let sim- 
mer on the hob. Cut the mushrooms into small pieces 
and fry with the onion in a little butter, then add to 
the heating gravy. In still another vessel, when the 
veal is nearly done, heat the oysters, also chopped fine, 
seasoning with salt and pepper. When the “ pigeons” 
are tender throughout, uncover, baste generously with 
butter, and brown. Transfer to a hot flat dish; clip the 
packthread and gently withdraw it, not to injure the 
shape of the rolled meat. Let the gravy in which they 
were roasted come to a fast boil, thicken with browned 


118 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


flour and pour into the saucepan containing the sauce, 
sweetbreads, etc. Boil up once, add the wine; take 
from the fire and put in the chopped oysters. Stir all 
together well in the saucepan, pour a dozen spoonfuls, 
or so, over the “ pigeons,” taking up the thickest part ; 
send the rest to table in a gravy tureen. 

You can make a simpler sauce by leaving out the 
sweetbreads, etc., and seasoning the gravy in the bak- 
ing-pan with tomato sauce. 

These “ piyeons” will make an attractive variety in 
the home bill of fare, and do well as the pzéce de reses- 
tance of a family dinner. 


A Veat Turnover. of 


Remains of roast veal—cold, minced fine, and sea- 
soned. 

2 or 3 eggs. 

1 cup milk. 

Flour to make a good batter—about 4 table-spoonfuls. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

Chopped parsley, pepper, and salt. 

Heat the butter to a boil in the frying-pan. Mix the 
egos, milk, flour, parsley, pepper, and salt into a bat- 
ter, and pour it into the frying-pan. Lay in the middle, 
as soon as it begins to “ form,” the minced meat. Fry 
rather slowly, taking care that the batter does not burn. 
When done on one side, fold the edges of the pancake 
over to the middle, enclosing the meat, and turn with a 


cake spatula. When both sides are of a delicate brown, 


put the cake “ turner” under it, and slip over to a hot 
dish. 
Send around a little gravy in a boat. 


% 
, 
% 
W 
fi 





MEATS. 119 


Mear and Potato Purrs. of 


Slices of cold roast beef or mutton, and as many of 
corned ham. 

2 eggs. 

focup milk. 

Enough potatoes and flour to make a good paste. 

Pepper, salt, and mustard, or catsup. 

Mash the potatoes, mix with them the eggs, well 
beaten, and whip up to a cream, adding the milk grad- 
ually. Add flour enough to enable you to roll it out 
into a sheet. Cut into squares, and in the centre of 
each lay a slice of beef or mutton, well seasoned with 
pepper and salt, and spread with made mustard or cat- 
sup. Lay on this a slice of ham of the same shape and 
size; fold the paste into a triangular “ turnover,” print- 
ing the edges deeply with a jagging-iron, and fry in 
butter or beef-dripping to a nice brown. Take up so 
soon as they are done; lay on white paper for a mo- 
ment to absorb the grease, and serve hot. _ 


SCALLOPED CHICKEN. »fa 


Cold roast or boiled chicken—chiefly the white meat. 

1 cup gravy. 

1 table-spoonful butter, and 1 egg, well beaten. 

1 cup of fine bread-crumbs. 

Pepper and salt. © 

Rid the chicken of gristle and skin, and cut—not 
chop—into pieces less than half an inch long. Have 
ready the gravy, or some rich drawn butter, in a sauce- 
pan on the fire. Thicken it well, and stir in the 
chicken, boil up once, take it off,and add the beaten 


120 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


ege, Cover the bottom of a buttered dish with fine 
bread-crumbs, pour in the mixture, and put another 
thick layer of crumbs on top, sticking bits of butter all 
over it. Bake to a delicate brown in a quick oven. 


Or— 


Instead of the gravy make a white sauce, as follows: 

1 cup cream or rich milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter and 1 beaten egg. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch, wet in cold milk. 

Pepper, salt and parsley. 

Heat the cream to a boil, stir in the corn-starch until 
it thickens ; then the butter, seasoning and ege. Take 
at once from’ the fire, add the minced chicken, and 
proceed as already directed. 

Turkey may be used instead of chicken; also veal. 


ScALLOPED Brrr ( Very good). rfa 


Some minced beef or lean mutton. 

1 young onion, minced. 

% cup gravy. 

Some mashed potato. 

1 table-spoonful of butter to a cup of potato. 

1 table-spoonful of cream to the same. 

Pepper and salt. 

Catsup, if mutton be used; made mustard for beef. 

1 beaten egg for each cupful of potato. 

Mash the potato while hot, beating very light with 
the butter and cream—lastly, the egg. Too much at- 
tention cannot be paid to this part of the work. Fill 
a buttered baking-dish, or scallop shells with the 
minced meat, seasoned with onion, pepper, salt and 





MEATS. Tay 


mustard or catsup, moisten with gravy, and cover with 
the mashed potato at least half an inch thick if your 
dish be large. Smooth this over and bake to a light 
brown. Just before you draw them from the oven glaze 
by putting a bit of butter on the top of each scallop. 


Mincr or VEAL on Lamp. of 


1 cup gravy, well thickened. 

The remains of cold roast meat—minced, but not 
very fine. 

2 table-spoonfuls cream, or rich milk. 

1 saltspoonful mace. 

Pepper and salt to taste, with chopped parsley. 

1 small onion. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

3 eggs well whipped. 

Heat the gravy to a boil, add the milk, butter, sea- 
soning, onion, lastly the eggs, and so soon as these are 
stirred in, the minced meat, previously salted and pep 
pered. Let it get smoking hot, but it must: not boil. 
Heap in the middle of a dish, and enclose with a fence 
»£ fried potato or fried triangles of bread. 

If well cooked and seasoned, this is a savory entrée. 


Wuirr Fricassre oF Rassir. >[« 


1 young rabbit. 

1 pint weak broth. 

t pound fat salt pork. 

1 onion, sliced. 

Chopped parsley, pepper and salt. 
A very little mace. — 

1 cup of milk or cream. 


122 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 table-spoonful corn-starch or rice flour. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

Joint the rabbit neatly and cut the pork into strips. 
Put on the rabbit to boil (when it has lain in salt-and- 
water half an hour) in the broth, which should be cold. 
Put in the pork with it, and stew, closely covered, and 
very gently, an hour, or, until tender, before adding the 
onion, seasoning and parsley. When you do this, take 
out the pieces of rabbit, put in a covered dish to keep 
warm and boil down the gravy very fast, for fifteen min- 
utes. Take out the pork, then strain the gravy through 
your soup-strainer. Let it stand five or six minutes in 
a cold place that the fat may rise. Skim this off; re- 
turn the gravy to the saucepan, and when it is almost 
on the boil, stir in the cream or milk in which the corn- 
starch has been dissolved. Stir until it thickens, put in 
the butter, then the pieces of rabbit and the pork. All 
must simmer together five minutes, but not boil. When 
it is smoking hot, lay the rabbit neatly on a dish, pour 
over the gravy, garnish with parsley and sliced lemons 
and serve. 


Brown Fricassee or Rassirt, or “Jueeup Rassit.” fe 


1 young but full-grown rabbit, or hare. - 

% pound fat salt pork, or ham. 

1 cup good gravy. 

Dripping or butter for frying. 

1 onion, sliced. 

Parsley, pepper, salt and browned flour. 

1 glass of wine. , 

1 tablespoon currant jelly. 

Let the rabbit lie, after it is jointed, for half an hol 





GAME. ADS 


in cold salt-and-water. Wipe dry, and fry to a fine 
brown with the onion. Have ready a tin pail, or the 
inner vessel of a farina-kettle; put in the bottom a 
layer of fat salt pork, cut into thin strips; then, one of 
rabbit, seasoning well with pepper, but scantily with 
salt. Sprinkle the fried onion over the rabbit, and 
proceed in this order until your meat is used up. 
Cover the vessel, and set in another of warm water. 
Bring slowly to a boil, and let it stand where it will 
cook steadily, but not fast, for three-quarters of an hour, 
if the rabbit be large. Take out the meat, arrange it 
on a dish, add the jelly, beaten up with the browned 
flour, to the gravy, then the wine. Boil up quickly 
and pour over the rabbit. 
Do not fail to give this a trial. 


Curriep Rassir. 


1 rabbit, jointed. 

4 pound fat salt pork. 

1 onion, ‘sliced. 

% cup cream. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch. 

Pepper, salt and parsley, and 2 eggs well beaten. 

1 dessert spoonful good curry-powder. 

Soak the jointed rabbit half an hour in cold salt-and- 
water, then put into a saucepan with the pork cut into 
strips, the onion and parsley, and stew steadily, not 
fast, in enough cold water to cover all, for an hour, or 
until the rabbit is tender. Take out the meat and lay 
on a covered chafing-dish to keep warm, while you 
boil the gravy five minutes longer. Let it stand a few 
minutes for the fat to rise, skim it and strain. Re- 


124 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


turn to the fire; let it almost boil, when put in the 
corn-starch. Stir to thickening, put in the curry- 
powder, the rabbit and pork, and let all stand covered, 
in a vessel of boiling water, fifteen minutes. Take up 
the meat, pile upon the chafing-dish ; add to the gravy 
the cream and eggs, and stir one minute before pour- 
ing over the meat. All should stand, covered, in the 
hot-water chafing-dish about five minutes before going 
to table. 

No arbitrary rule can be given as to the length of 
time it is necessary to cook game before it will be 
tender, since there are so many degrees of toughness 
in the best of that recommended by your reliable pro- 
vision merchant as “just right.” 

Hence, my oft-reiterated clause, “or, until tender.” 

You can curry chicken in the same manner as rabbit. 


Deviztep Raspsir. 


1 rabbit, jointed, as for fricassee. 

3 table-spoonfuls butter. 

A little cayenne, salt and mustard. 

1 teaspoonful Worcestershire sauce, and 1 table- 
spoonful vinegar. 

Parboil the rabbit, and let it get perfectly cold; 
then score to the bone, the gashes about half an inch 
apart. Melt together in a saucepan the butter and 
seasoning. Stir up well, and rub each piece of the 
rabbit with the mixture, working it into the gashes. 
Broil over a clear fire, turning as soon as they begin to 
drip. When they are brown lay on a hot dish, and 
pour melted butter over them. Let them lie in this, 
turning several times, for three or four minutes. Put 


GAME. 125 


the rest of the mixture on them, if any be left, and 
serve. 
Drvittep Fowt. 


Use only the legs and upper part of the wings of 
roasted or boiled fowls. Treat precisely as you do the 
rabbit in the foregoing receipt. 


SALMI OF GAME, Pf 


An underdone roast duck, pheasant, or grouse. 

1 great spoonful of butter. 

2 onions, sliced and fried in butter. 

1 large cup strong gravy. 

Parsley, marjoram and savory. 

Pepper and salt. 

A pinch of cloves, and same of nutmeg. 

Cut your game into neat joints and slices, taking all 
the skin off. Put refuse bits, fat, skin, etc., into a 
saucepan with the gravy, the fried onions, herbs, spice, 
pepper and salt. Boil gently one hour; let it cool 
until the fat rises, when skim it off and strain the 
gravy. Iteturn it to the saucepan, and, when it heats, 
stir into it the butter and thicken with browned flour. 
Boil up sharply for five minutes and put in the pieces 
of duck. After this, the salmi must not boil. 
Neglect of this rule ruins most of the so-called salmis 
one sees upon private as well as upon hotel tables. Set 
the saucepan in a vessel of boiling water, and heat it 
through, letting it stand thus ten minutes. Arrange 
the meat upon a hot dish, and pour the gravy over it. 
Garnish with triangles of fried bread, and serve a 
piece to each guest with the salmi. 


126 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Ttoast Rassirs. pfs 

A pair rabbits. 

$ pound fat salt pork, cut into thin slices. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter, and 1 glass of wine. 

Bread-crumbs, chopped pork, parsley, grated lemon- 
peel, salt and pepper for the stuffing. 

1 egg, beaten light, and 1 onion, sliced. 

Skin and clean the rabbits (or hares), and lay in cold 
salt-and-water half an hour. Prepare the dressing as 
above directed, binding with the egg. Wipe the rab- 
bits dry inside and out, stuff with the prepared — 
mixture, and sew them up closely. Cover the backs ~ 
of the rabbits with the sliced pork, binding it in place 
with packthread wound around and around the bodies. 
Lay them in the baking-pan, backs uppermost; pour 
into it about two cupfuls of cold water, cover closely, 
and steam for an hour, raising the upper pan now and 
then to poura few spoonfuls of the boiling water about 
the rabbits over their backs, that the pork may not — 
crisp; then remove the cover, clip the packthread, 
and take off the pork. Brown the rabbits, basting — 
bountifully and frequently with butter. Chop the 
pork, and crisp in a frying-pan with the sliced onion. 
When the rabbits are done transfer to a hot dish; pour 
the gravy into a saucepan with the pork and onion. 
Boil up once, and strain before thickening with 
browned flour. Add the wine, give a final boil, and 
pour over and about the rabbits, sending up the surplus 
in a tureen. 

Pigeons and grouse are very fine roasted in this way, — 
also partridges. 


GAME. LIZZ 


BratseD Witp Duck or Grouse. »f« 


A pair of ducks or grouse. 

1 onion, minced fine. 

Bread-crumbs, pepper and salt, a pinch of sage, and 
a little chopped pork for stuffing. 

4 table-spoonfuls of butter, or good dripping. 

1 cup gravy. 

Browned flour. 

Prepare and stuff the fowls as for roasting. Have 
ready the butter or dripping hot in a large frying-pan, 
and fry first one fowl, then the other in this, turning as 
it browns below. Then lay them in a large sauce-pan 
and pour the gravy, previously heated, in with them. 
Cover closely and stew gently for an hour, or until the 
game is tender. Transfer the fowls to a hot dish and 
cover it, to keep in flavor and warmth while you strain 
the gravy. Let it cool a little to throw up the grease. 
Skim, thicken with browned flour, and boil up well 
for five minutes. Skim again, put back the duck into 
the gravy, and let all stand heating—noz¢ boiling—five 
minutes more, before dishing. Pour a few spoonfuls 
of gravy over the ducks on the dish; the rest into a 
tureen. 

Send around green peas and currant jelly with them. 


Roast Quarts. pfa 
6 plump quails. 
12 fine oysters. 
3 table-spoonfuls butter. 
Pepper and salt, and fried bread for serving. 
Clean the Goaile and wash out very carefully with 


128 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


cold water in which been dissolved a little soda. 
Cleanse finally with pure water and wipe dry, inside 
and out. Place within the body of each bird a couple 
of oysters or one very large one, sew it up and range 
all, side by side, in a baking-pan. Pour a very little 
boiling water over them to harden the outer skin and 
keep in the juices, and roast, covered, about half an 
hour. Then uncover and baste frequently with butter 
while they are browning. Serve upon rounds of fried 
bread, laid on a hot dish. Put a spoonful of gravy 
upon each, and send up the rest in a boat, when you 
have thickened and strained it. 

If you like, you may add a glass of claret and a 
table-spoonful of currant jelly to the gravy after the 
quails are taken up. 

Be careful to sew up small game with fine cotton 
that will not tear the meat when it is drawn out. 


F'r1cassEED CurcKxen @ 2 [talienne (Pine). 


Pair of chickens. 

4 pound fat salt pork, cut into strips. 

2 sprigs of parsley. 

1 sprig thyme. 

1 bay leaf. 

A dozen mushrooms. 

1 small onion. 

1 clove. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

1 table-spoonful of salad oil. 

2 glasses wine—white, or pale sherry. 

Cut the chickens into joints ; put them with the pork 
into a saucepan with a very little water, and stew, 





GAME. 129 


covered, until tender. Remove the chicken to a hot- 
water chafing-dish and keep warm while you prepare 
the gravy. Turn the liquor in which the chickens were 
cooked into a frying-pan, thicken with browned flour ; 
put into it the herbs, onion, clove and the mushrooms 
chopped very fine. Boil up sharply; add the butter 
and stew fast half an hour. Then add the wine and 
oil. Simmer a few minutes, and strain through a coarse 
cullender over the chicken. 

Lhave understated the merits of this admirable fricas- 
see by styling it “fine.” The dear friend upon whose 
table I first saw it, will, I am sure, earn the thanks of 
many other housewives, with my own, by giving the 
receipt. 


Mincep Cuicken anp Eggs. >} 


Remains of roast or boiled chicken. 

Stuffing of the same. 

1 onion cut fine. . 

4 cup of cream. 

1 table-spoonful flour or corn-starch. 

Parsley, salt, and pepper. 

6 or 8 eggs. 

4 cup gravy, and handful of bread-crumbs. 

Cut the meat of the fowls into small, neat squares. 
Put the bones, fat, and skin into a saucepan, with the 
onion and enough cold water to cover them, and stew 
gently for an hour or more. Strain, let it stand for a 
little while that the fat may rise, skim, and return to 
the saucepan. When hot to boiling, add the cream and 
thickening, with the seasoning. When it thickens, put 
in the chicken, after which it must not boil. Butter a 

6 


130 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


deep dish; cover the bottom with the stuffing of the 
fowls, crumbled or mashed up; wet with gravy; pour 
in the mince; strew fine, dry bread-crumbs over this 
and break the eggs carefully upon the surface. More, 
and if possible, finer crumbs should cover these; put a 
bit of butter on each egg, pepper and salt, and bake in 
a quick oven until the top begins to bubble and smoke. 
The whites of the eggs should be well “set,” the yolks 
soft. 

I can safely recommend this receipt. Few “ pick- 
up” dishes are more popular with those for whom it is 
my duty and delight to cater. 

A mince of veal can be made in the same way, in 
which case a little ham is an improvement, also two or 
three hard-boiled eggs, cut into dice, and mixed with 
the meat. 


(JUENELLES. >f« 


Some cold, white meat of fowls or veal. 

1 cup fine bread-crumbs. 

8 table-spoonfuls cream or milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 

1 ege, well beaten. 

1 cup well-flavored gravy. 

Pepper and salt. 

Chop the meat very fine. Wet the crumbs with milk, 
and drain as dry as you can. Work into this paste the 
meat and egg, seasoning well. Flour your hands, and 
make the mixture into round balls, rolling these in 
flour when formed. Have ready the gravy hot in a 
saucepan; drop in the quenelles, and boil fast five 
minutes. Take them up and pile upon a hot dish; . 


GAME 131 


thicken the gravy with browned flour; boil up once 
and pour over them. 


Or, 


After making out the quenelles, roll them in beaten 
egg, then in cracker-crumbs, and fry in good dripping 
seasoned with onion. Dry every drop of grease from 
them by rolling them upon paper, and serve with the 
gravy poured over them. 

These quenelles are nice served up with fricasseed 


sweetbreads, or as a garnish for them, or game. 


REcHAUFFEE oF VEAL AND Ham. 


Cold veal (if under-done all the better) and ham. 

2 egos, beaten light. 

Handful of very fine bread-crumbs. 

A little tart jelly. 

Dripping or butter for frying. 

Pepper, salt, and made mustard, or catsup. 

Cut the veal and ham into rather thick slices of.ex- 
actly the same size. Spread one side of a slice of veal 
with jelly, one side of the ham with mustard or thick 
catsup. Press these firmly together, that they may 
adhere closely, dip in the beaten egg, and roll in the 
bread (or cracker) crumbs, which should be seasoned 
with pepper and salt. Fry very quickly; dry off the 
grease by laying them on soft paper, and pile upon a 
dish. 


RovunapeEs oF BrEesr. 


Some slices of rare roast beef. 
Some slices of boiled ham. 
2 eggs, beaten light. 


132 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Butter or dripping for frying. 

Pepper and mustard. 

A little thick gravy. 

Cut the beef into even, oblong slices, the ham rather 
thinner and smaller. Spread one side of the beef with 
mustard, and pepper the ham. Lay the ham upon the 
beef and roll up together as tightly as possible; roll in 
the egg, then the cracker, and pierce with a slender 
steel, tin or wooden skewer in such a manner as to 
keep the roll pinned together. Put several on each 
skewer, but do not let them touch one another. Fry 
brown ; lay on a dish, and gently withdraw the skewers. 
Pour the gravy boiling hot over them. 

Small rowlades are a convenient and toothsome gar- 
nish for game and roast poultry. 


Rovuniapres oF Mutton. 


Can be made in the same way, but leaving out the 
ham, and spreading the inside of each slice with cur- 
rant jelly. 


F'rreD CHICKEN. >} 


1 tender young chicken, cut into joints. 

2 egos, beaten light. 

4 cup of cracker-crumbs. 

Sweet lard, dripping, or the best salad-oil for frying. 

Lay the chicken in salt-and-water fifteen minutes ; 
wipe dry, pepper and salt, dip in the egg, then in the 
cracker-crumbs, and fry slowly in hot lard or dripping. 
Drain dry, pile on a hot dish, and lay sprigs of 
parsley over it. . 





GAME. 133 


Cnicken FRED WHOLE. 


1 young, tender chicken, trussed as for roasting, but 
not stuffed. 

Butter or very nice dripping for frying. 

Clean the chicken, wash out well, and dry, inside 
and out. Put it in your steamer, or cover in a cullen- 
der over a pot of boiling water, keeping it ata fast boil 
for fifteen or twenty minutes. Have ready the boiling 
hot fat in a deep frying-pan, or cruller-kettle. It 
should half cover the chicken, when having floured 
it all over, you putitin. When one side is a light 
brown, turn it. When both are cooked, take up, put 
into a covered kettle or tin pail, and set in a pot of hot 
water, which keep at a slow boil, half an hour. If you 
like a delicate flavor of onion, put a few slices in the 
bottom of the kettle before the chicken goes in. 
Anoint the chicken plentifully, after laying it on a 
hot dish, with melted butter in which you have stirred 
pepper and chopped parsley. : 

This is a new and attractive manner of preparing 
chickens for the table. None but tender ones should 
be fried in any way. 


“ SMOTHERED” CHICKEN. Pf 


2 tender chickens, roasting size, but not very large. 

Pepper, salt and browned flour for gravy. 

Clean and wash the chickens, and split down the 
back as for broiling. Lay flat in a baking-pan, 
dash a cupful of boiling water upon them; set in the 
oven, and invert another pan over them so as to cover 
tightly. Roast at a steady, but moderate heat, about 


134 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


half an hour, then lift the cover and baste freely with 
butter and a little of the water in which the fowls are 
cooking. In ten minutes more, baste again with gravy 
from the baking-pan. In five more, with melted 
butter and abundantly, going all over the fowls, 
which should now begin to brown. Increase the heat, 
still keeping the chickens covered. A few minutes 
before dishing them, test with a fork to ascertain if 
they are tender. When done they should be of a 
mellow brown hue all over the upper part—a uniform 
and pleasing tint. Dish, salt and pepper them; 
thicken the gravy left in the pan with browned flour, 
adding a little water, if necessary, season with pepper, 
salt and parsley, and send up in a gravy boat. 

The flavor of “ smothered” chicken—so named by 
the Virginia housewife of the olden time—is peculiar, 
and to most palates delightful. 


SMOTHERED CHICKEN WITH OYSTERS. >f« 


1 fine, fat chicken. 

1 pint of oysters, or enough to fill the chicken. 

Dressing of chopped oysters, parsley and crumbs. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

8 table-spoonfuls cream. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch. 

Yolks of 3 hard-boiled eggs. 

Pepper and salt to taste, with chopped parsley for 
sauce. 

Clean the chicken, washing it out with two or three 
waters. Fill the “craw” with the prepared stuffing, 
tying up the neck very securely. Then, pack the 
main cavity of the body with oysters and sew up the 





POULTRY. 135 


vent. Have ready a clean tin pail with a closely-fit- 
ting top. Put the fowl, neatly trussed, into it, cover 
and set in a pot of cold water. Bring to a boil, and 
cook slowly for more than an hour after the water in 
the outer vessel begins to boil. If the fowl be not 
young, it may be needful to keep it in two hours. Do 
not open the mner vessel in less than an hour. Uav- 
ing ascertained that the chicken is tender throughout, 
take it out and lay on a hot dish, covering immediately. 
Turn the gravy into a saucepan, thicken with the corn- 
starch, add the cream, parsley, seasoning and the 
boiled yolks chopped fine. Boil up once; pour a 
little over the chicken, and serve the rest in a sauce- 
boat. 


Fonpu or CHIcKEN oR OTHER Wuite Meat. 


Some cold chicken, veal, or turkey minced fine. 

1 cupful bread-crumbs—baker’s bread is best. 

1 cupful boiling milk. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

1 slice cold boiled ham—minced. 

4 onion boiled in, and then strained out of the 
milk. 

2 eggs, beaten very light. 

A pinch of soda, dissolved in the milk. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Soak the crumbs in the boiling milk, stir in the bat- 
ter, and beat very light. Let the mixture cool, while 
you mince the meat and whip the eggs. Stir in the 
meat first when the bread is nearly cold, season, and 
lastly put in the beaten eggs. Beat all up well and 
pour into a well-greased baking-dish. Set in a brisk 


136 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


oven. When the fondu is a light, delicately-browned 
puff, send at once to table in the dish in which it 
was baked. 


GALANTINE. pfs 


“A sort of glorified head-cheese—isn’t it?” said a 
blunt collegian at the height of his vacation-appetite, 
in passing his plate for a third reinforcement from the 
dish in front of his hostess. 

The phrase always recurs to me, when I taste or 
see a galantine, for this was the foreign name of the 
spicy relish aptly characterized by the youth. If spicy 
and appetizing, it is also a convenient stand-by for 
the lunch or supper-table, since it keeps well and 
pleases most people, even those who do not affect “ head- 
cheese ” proper. 

A rind of fat salt pork, about six inches wide ee 
eight long. 

A little sausage, some minced ham, and odds and 
ends of game and poultry, with giblets of all kinds, 
chopped up. 

Salt, pepper, cloves, allspice, mace and cinnamon ; 
sweet marjoram, savory, thyme, a little grated lemon- 
peel; a pinch of cayenne. 

1 small onion, minced very fine. 

1 cup rich gravy, thick and savory. 

A little butter and bits of fat meat cut into dice. 

A pint of weak broth, seasoned with pepper, salt and 
onion. 

Cut from a piece of fat salt pork (the loin or sides) 
the rind in one piece, leaving on about a half-inch of 
fat. Soak in water over night to make it more pliable. 





POULTRY. 137 


Spread, next day, upon a flat dish, and lay on it layers 
of sausage (07, if you have it, potted ham or tongue), 
game, poultry, giblets—minced meat of almost any 
kind, although these named are most savory—-well sea- 
soned with the condiments above enumerated, and 
sprinkled sparsely with onion. Moisten as you go on, 
with the rich broth; put in occasional bits of butter 
and fat meat, else it will be dry. Fold all up in the 
pork rind, joining the edges neatly. 

About the roll wrap a stout cloth, fitting closely and 
sew it up on all sides. Bind, for further security, 
stout tape all about the bundle. Put the weak broth 
into a pot, and while it is still cold, drop the galantine 
into it, and boil slowly for five hours, The broth should 
cover it entirely all the time. Let it get perfectly cold 
in the liquor; then take it out, and without removing 
tape or cloth, put it under heavy weights between two 
plates, and do not touch it for twenty-four hours. At 
the end of that time, cut tape and threads, remove the 
cloth carefully, trim the ragged edges of the galantine, 
and send to table whole. Cut as it is asked for, with 
a keen knife, in smooth, thin slices. 


JELLIED ToNGUE. fa 


1 large boiled tongue (cold). 

2 ounces of gelatine dissolved in 

$ pint of water. 

1 tea-cup of browned veal gravy. 

1 pint of liquor in which the tongue was boiled. 
1 table-spoonful sugar. 

1 table-spoonful burnt sugar for coloring. 

3 table-spoonfuls of vinegar. 


138 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 pint boiling water. 

Put together the gravy, liquor, sugar, vinegar and 
a table-spoonful of burnt sugar dissolved in cold water. 

Add the dissolved gelatine and mix well—then the 
boiling water, and strain through flannel. Out the 
tongue in slices as for the table. Let the jelly cool and 
begin to thicken. Wet a mould with cold water, put a 
little jelly in the bottom, then a layer of tongue, more 
jelly, and so on, until the mould is full. Cover and set 
in a cool place. , 

To turn it out, dip the mould in hot water for an in- 
stant, invert upon a dish, and garnish with celery- 
sprigs, and nasturtium-flowers. Cut with a thin, sharp 
knife, perpendicularly. 

This i is a handsome and delicious dish, and easily made. 


Game orn Pouttrry in Savory JELLY. pfa 


A knuckle of veal, weighing 2 pounds. 

1 slice of lean ham. 

1 shallot, minced. 

Sprig of thyme and one of parsley. 

6 pepper-corns (white), and one teaspoonful salt. 

3 pints of cold water. 

Boil all these together until the liquor is reduced to 
a pint, when strain without squeezing, and set to cool 
until next day. It should then be a firm jelly. Take 
off every particle of fat. 

1 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked in 

1 cup cold water for 3 hours. 

1 table-spoonful sugar. 

2 table-spoonfuls strained lemon-juice. 





* POULTRY. 139 


2 table-spoonfuls currant jelly, dissolved in cold 
water, and strained through a muslin cloth. 

Nearly a quart of bocling water. 

Pour the boiling water over the gelatine, stir swiftly 
for a moment; add the jellied “stock,” and when this 
is dissolved, the sugar, lemon-juice and coloring. Stir 
until all are mixed and melted together. Strain 
through a flannel bag until quite clear. Do not shake 
or squeeze the bag. 

Have ready Bia or 5 hard-boiled eggs. 

The remains of roast game, roast or boiled poultry, 
ent in neat thin slices, with no jagged edges, and salted 
slightly. 

Wet a mould with cold water, and when the jelly 
begins to congeal, pour some in the bottom. Cut the 
whites of the eggs in pretty shapes—stars, flowers, 
leaves, with a keen penknife. If you have sufficient 
skill, carve the name or initials of some one whom you 
aa to honor. Unless you can do this, however, con- 
tent yourself with smooth thin rings Peel, opine one 
another, like a chain, when they are arranged on the 
lowest stratum of jelly, which, by the way, should be a 
thin one, that your device may be visible. Pour in 
more jelly, and on this lay slices of meat, close to- 
gether. More jelly, and proceed in this order until 
the mould is full, or all the meat used up. 

Set in a cool ee until next day, when turn out 
upon a flat dish. 

An oblong or round mould, with hai upright 
sides, is best for this purpose. 

There is no need for even a timid housekeeper to be 
appalled at the suggestion of attempting a task such 


-~ 


140 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


as is described above, or below. The very minuteness 
with which I have detailed the by-no-means difficult 
process should encourage, not daunt the tyro. “ Noth- 
ing venture, nothing have,” is a telling motto, in this 
connection. 


A TonauEr JELLIED WHOLE. 


Make the jelly and stock as in preceding receipt, 
leaving out the currant jelly, and coloring with a little 
burnt sugar, dissolved in cold water. This gives an 
amber tinge to the jelly. Should it not be clear after 
first straining, run it through the bag—a clean one— 
again. 

Trim a small tongue—boiled and perfectly cold— 
neatly, cutting away the root and paring it skilfully 
from tip to root with a sharp, thin-bladed knife. Wet 
an oblong mould (a baking-pan used for “brick” 
loaves of bread will do) with cold water, and put a 
thin layer of the congealing jelly in the bottom. Upon 
this lay the tongue, bearing in mind that what is the 
bottom now will be the top when the jelly is turned 
out. Encircle it with a linked chain made of rings of 
white of egg, or, if you prefer, let the rings barely 
touch one another, and fit in the centre of each a round 
of bright pickled beet. The effect of this is very pretty. 
Fill up the mould with jelly ; cover and set in a cold 
place for twelve hours. | 

This is a beautiful show-piece for luncheon or sup- 
per, and when it has served the end of its creation in 
this respect, can easily be carved with a sharp knife 
and remain, even in partial ruin, a thing of beauty. 





ih AVY. 


“ PRESIDING over an establishment like this makes 
sad havoe with the features, my dear Miss Pecksniffs,” 
said Mrs. Todgers. “The gravy alone is enough to 
add twenty years to one’s age. The anxiety of that 
one item, my dears, keeps the mind continually upon 
the stretch.” 

Without following the worthy landlady further into 
the depths of her dissertation upon the fondness of 
commercial gentlemen for the “item,” I would answer 
a question addressed to me by a correspondent who 
“believes”—she is so kind as -to inform me—“in 
Common Sense.” 

“T notice that many of your made dishes are de- 
pendent for savoriness upon ‘a cup of good broth,’ or, 
‘half a cup of strong gravy.’ Let me ask, in the spirit 
of sincere desire for useful information, where is the 
gravy or broth to come from?” 

In return I plagiarize the words of a lady who ac- 
complishes more with less noise and fretting than any 
other person I ever saw. 

“T don’t see how you find time for it all!” ex- 
claimed an admiring visitor. 

“TJ make it, if I can get it in no other way,” was the 
rejoinder. 

Never throw away so much as a teaspoonful of 


142 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


gravy of any kind. Season it rather highly, and set it 
away in a cool place until it is wanted. For a while 
you will have some difficulty in impressing the im- 
portance of this rule upon your cook, especially if she 
is allowed to have all the “ soap-fat” she can save as 
one of her “perquisites.” This is a ruinous leak in 
any household, whether the oleaginous “savings” be 
exchanged for soap (hard or soft), or for money. It is 
so easy to “let it go into the fat-crock,” and when the 
cook is to gain anything for herself by the dazsser-aller 
the temptation is cruelly strong—even if she have a 
conscience. I have known the pile of unclean fat col- 
lected for the soap-man to be swelled not only by the 
bits of butter left upon the plates after meals, but by 
quarter and half-pounds abstracted bodily from butter- 
tub or pot, and the abstraction never, in the phrase- 
ology of the “conveyer,” to be “scrupled.” “The 
wise convey it call!’> said honest Pistol, and to no other 
ethical motto has heartier response been made by the 
comptrollers of culinary treasuries. 

In a family of ordinary size nothing should find its 
way into the buckets of the unsavory caller at -base- 
ment-door or back-gate. The drippings from most 
kinds of roast meat, if settled, strained and skimmed, 
and kept in a clean vessel, answer for many purposes 
quite as well as butter, and better than lard. Even 
that from mutton should be “tried out,” strained 
through muslin, slightly salted, and, if you choose, 
perfumed with rose-water, in which shape it is better 
‘than cold cream, or glycerine for chapped hands, and 
is a useful cerate for cuts, scratches, etc. The oil-cake 
should be removed from the top of all gravies before 





GRAVY. 143 


they are used upon the table; for, be it understood, 
grease ws not gravy. 

How often I have wished, from the depths of a 
loathing stomach, that certain well-meaning house- 
keepers—at whose boards I have sat as guest or boarder 
—who fry beafsteak in lard, and send ham to table 
swimming in fat; upon the surface of whose soups float 
spheroids of oil that encase the spoon with blubber, 
and coat the lips and tongue of the eater with flaky 
scales—that these dear souls who believe in “old- 
fashioned cookery,” understood this simple law of 
digestive gravity! 

A “rich gravy,” or “a strong broth,” is not of ne- 
cessity, then, one surcharged with fat. Beef-tea—which 
is the very essence of the meat, and contains more 
nourishment in small bulk than any other liquid used 
in the sick-room—should be made of lean, but tender 
beef, and every particle of suet be removed from the 
cooled surface before it is re-heated for the patient’s 
use. , 

If you have no gravy ready when you wish to pre- 
pare ragotit, or other dish requiring this ingredient, 
“make it.” Crack up the bones from which you have 
eut the flesh, and put them into a saucepan with the 
refuse bits of meat, gristle, skin, etc.; cover with cold 
water, and stew very gently until you have extracted 
all the nourishment, and from two cups of liquid in 
the pot when the boiling commenced, you have one 
cup of tolerable gravy. A few minutes of thought 
and preparation in your kitchen after breakfast will 
enable you to have anything of this kind in season for 
a luncheon dish, or an entrée at the early dinner. 


144 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


Foresight in these matters is to be forearmed. Teach 
your cook, furthermore, never to toss “that carcass” 
of fowl, or the ham, or mutton-bone, “ with next to 
nothing upon. it,” to the dogs, or into the scavenger’s 
barrel. It will not, by itself, make good soup, unless 
it be very much underdone, and even then the broth 
will not be equal to that made from raw meat or mar- 
row bones. But, seasoned and thickened—adding 
sweet herbs and a dash. of catsup to the flavoring—it 
will be useful as gravy in many ways; always re- 
membering that it must be skimmed before it is used. 
It is also well worth your while to see for yourself, 
when the meat comes home from market, that it has 
been properly trimmed for the table. Much goes into 
the oven or upon the spit to be roasted, or upon the 
gridiron to be broiled, that is unfit to be eaten after it 
has been baked or grilled. All bits of tough skin—all 
gristly portions, soft bones, and the cartilage known as 
“ whitleather ” should be removed before cooking from 
roasts, chops, and steaks, when this can be done without 
injuring the shape of the meat. The place for these is 
the stew-pot. Cover them with cold water; put in 
no seasoning until they have simmered slowly for a 
long time in a close vessel, and the liquid is reduced to 
at most one-half of the original quantity; then season, 
boil up once hard, strain, and set aside until cate “— 
to try a receipt in which “a little good Ege a 
desideratum. 

If you buy meat for gravy—which you need not do 
very often, if you (and your cook) are reasonably care- 
ful about “scraps,” cooked and raw—get the coarser 
pieces and marrow-bones pounded to bits. Cut up 








GRAVY. 145 


the meat fine, also. You cannot, by never so long boil- 
ing, extract the strength so completely from a solid 
“chunk” of flesh as from the same quantity shred 
into strips or cut into dice. It should be reduced to 
rags for gravies and soups, and invariably put on in 
cold water. Fast boiling hardens the meat and injures 
the flavor of the gravy. For the first hour, it should 
barely simmer. After that, stew very slowly and 
steadily. The best gravy is like jelly when cold. 

Are these details trivial to absurdity? If they seem 
so to you, pray bear with my over-carefulness when I 
tell you how ignorant 1 was of minute economies 
when I assumed the name, and, so far as I could, the 
duties of a housewife, and how many others I have 
seen and talked with who are as anxious as was I, to 
stop the deadly little drains from the domestic system, 
yet know a where to begin. 


SALADS. 


Tus subject has been treated of so fully—so ex- 
haustively, I thought, then,—in No. 1 of the “ Common 
Sense Series,” * that I have comparatively few receipts 
to set down here. I can, however, heartily endorse 
these as especially good of their kind. Indeed, the 
neatest compliment ever paid any receipt in my 7é- 
pertowre was when an epicure—not a gourmande— 
styled the oyster salad made in obedience to it, an “ in- 
spiration.” 

OysTER SALAD. pfa 


1 quart oysters, cut—not chopped—into small 
pieces. 

1 bunch celery, cut—not chopped—into small pieces. 
hard-boiled eggs. 
raw egos, well whipped. 
great spoonful salad oil. 
teaspoonful powdered sugar. 
small spoonful salt. 
small spoonful pepper. 

1 small spoonful made mustard. 

Half cup best cider vinegar. 

Drain the liquor well from the oysters and cut them 
with a sharp knife into dice. Cut the celery, which 


eS ee Ee bD bO 


*See Page 200. 


SALADS. 147 


should be white and crisp, into pieces of corresponding 
size. Set them aside in separate vessels, in a cold 
place while you prepare the dressing. Beat the eggs 
light (with a “ Dover” egeg-beater, if you have ay: 
mix in the sugar; then a in prually the oil until 
it isa light cream. Have ready, rubbed to a powder, 
the boiled yolks; add to them the salt, pepper, and 
_ lastly the mustard. Beat these into the oil and yolk, 
and then, two or three drops at a time, the vinegar, 
whipping the dressing briskly, but lightly for two or 
three minutes. It should,if properly managed, be like 
rich yellow cream—or eel 

With a silver fork toss up the oysters and celery to- 
gether ina glass dish ; pour half of the dressing over 
them; toss up—not ae it down—for a minute, and 
pour the rest on the top. 

Lay a border of light-green celery tufts close within 
the edge of the bowl, with a cluster in the middle of 
the salad. Serve as soon as may be, after it is mixed. 
Meanwhile, keep on the ice. 


Caspace Sauap. ( Very good.) »¥a 


1 small firm head of cabbage—chopped or sliced fine. 

1 cup of sweet milk, boiling hot. 

A little less than a cup of vinegar. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

2 egos, well beaten. 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 teaspoonful essence of celery. 

Pepper and salt to taste. 

Heat the milk and vinegar in separate vessels. When 
the vinegar boils, put in the butter, sugar and season- 


148 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


ing. Boil up once and stir in the chopped cabbage. 
Heat to scalding, but do not let it actually boil. To 
the hot milk add the eggs; cook one minute after they 
begin to thicken. ‘Turn the scalding cabbage into a 
deep bowl; pour the custard over it, stir in quickly, 
tossing up the mixture with a silver fork, until the in- 
gredients are thoroughly incorporated; cover to keep 
in the strength of the vinegar, and set where it will 
cool suddenly. 

Serve perfectly cold, and garnish with some slices 
of cold boiled eggs and cresses. 

This will be found a vast improvement upon the 
old-fashioned “ coldslaw,” however prepared, and is 
more wholesome. 


Lozster SaLaD—witTHovut Or, pf 


1 fine lobster—boiled thoroughly, and carefully 
picked out. Cut intosmall pieces ; put in a broad dish, 
and sprinkle with a teaspoonful of salt and one of pep- 
per. Set aside in a cold place. 

2 bunches of white crisp celery, also cut into small 
pieces. Toss up lightly with the lobster. 


Dressing. 


2 large table-spoonfuls of butter. 

14 large table-spoonfuls of flour or corn-starch. 

1 pint boiling water. 

Stir the flour, previously wet, into the boiling water ; 
let it boil two minutes and add the butter. Boil one 
minute longer and set aside to cool. Meantime, mix 
well and smoothly. 

1 large table-spoonful of mustard. 


SALADS, 149 


1 teaspoonful of sugar—(powdered). 

4 teaspoonful of salt. 

1 table-spoonful boiling water. 

1 small cup of vinegar. 

Beat this up well, then add to the drawn butter— 
beat to a cream and pour over the lobster. 

Garnish the dish with celery tops and hard-boiled eggs. 

It gives me great pleasure to present this receipt to 
those who, from prejudice or taste, do not like the 
presence of salad oil in any dish. I have known many 
who would not knowingly partake of salad, fricassee, or 
ragout, that had oil, in however small quantity, as one 
of its ingredients. And, unlike mince-pie, with the 
brandy left out, or pie-crust, m¢nus shortening, this oil- 
less salad is really delicious. Especially if a couple of 
raw egos, well whipped, be added to the drawn butter, 
when almost cold. 


Cutoxen SaLap. (LZixcellent.) »j« 


2 full-grown chickens, boiled tender, and cold. 

3 bunches of celery. 

2 cups boiling water. 

2 table-spoonfuls corn-starch, wet with cold water. 

1 great spoonful fat, skimmed from liquor in which 
the fowls were boiled. 2 

2 table-spoonfuls oil. 

1 cup of vinegar. 

2 teaspoonfuls made mustard. 

3 raw eggs, whipped light. 

3 hard-boiled eggs. 

1 table-spoonful powdered sugar. 

1 teaspoonful salt, or to taste. 


150 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 teaspoonful pepper. 

1 teaspoonful Worcestershire sauce. 

Remove from the chicken every bit of fat and skin. 
Cut the best portions of the meat into dice with a 
sharp knife. Chopping is apt to make it ragged and 
uneven in appearance. Cut the celery in like manner, 
and set both aside in a cool place, when you have 
strewed a little salt over the chicken. To the boiling 
water add the corn-starch, and boil fast until it thick- 
ens well. Then stir in the chicken-essence, skimmed 
from the top of the cold liquor in which the fowls were 
boiled. If the pot is clean, it will be of a fine golden 
color. Take from the fire, and begin to whip into the 
sauce the beaten eggs. Continue this until the mix- 
ture is nearly cold. Rub the hard-boiled yolks to a 
fine powder in a Wedgewood mortar or earthenware 
bowl; add the mustard, sugar, pepper, and salt; the 
Worcestershire sauce ; then, a few drops at a time, the 
oil, lastly, also gradually, the vinegar. Strain through 
a wire sieve, or coarse tartelane, rubbing through all 
that will pass the net. Put the chicken and celery to- 
gether in a glass salad-dish, and wet up with half of 
the vinegar mixture. Be careful not to do more than 
moisten it well, tossing up lightly with a silver fork. 
Then beat the rest of the vinegar sauce into the thicker 


mixture, which should by this time be perfectly cold.. 


Pour over the salad; ornament the centre of the dish 
with flower-cups made of the hollowed halves of the 
whites of boiled eggs, with celery-tufts for petals. Lay 
a chain of sliced whites nearer the edge of the bowl, 
with a tender-celery leaf in each link, and set in a very 
cold place until wanted. 


SALADS. 151 


In obedience to this last injunction, I once left my 
salad on the shelf of a “very cold” pantry, until it 
was slightly frozen all through—a misadventure I did 
not suspect until it came to table. With a desperate 
attempt at facetiousness, I introduced the compound as 
a novelty—“a salade glacée”—and, to my relief and 
surprise, found in the accident a parallel to the “ Irish 
blackguard ” snuff story. The spoiled dish was pro- 
nounced by all far more delightful than the usual form 
of salad. 1 do not advise a repetition of the adventure 
on the part of any of my readers. Perhaps other 
guests might be less complaisant and flattering. It is 
hardly worth while to risk a cut glass dish on the 
chances of success. 

Use the liquor in which the chickens were boiled for 
soup. 

Crram Drrsstinc FoR SALAD. 

1 cup sweet cream. It must be perfectly fresh. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch, or very fine flour. 

Whites of two eggs, beaten stiff. 

8 table-spoonfuls vinegar. 

2 table-spoonfuls best salad-oil. 

2 tea-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

1 teaspoonful (scant) of salt. 

4 teaspoonful pepper. 

1 teaspoonful made mustard. 

Heat the cream in a farina-kettle almost to boiling ; 
then stir in the flour, previously wet with cold milk. Boil 
for two minutes, stirring all the time; add the sugar, 
and take from the fire. When half cold beat in the 
whipped whites of egg with swift strokes, but not many. 
Set aside to cool. When quite cold, whip in the oil, 


152 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


pepper, mustard and salt, and if your salad is ready, 
add the vinegar, and pour at once over it. 

This dressing is especially nice for lettuce salad. If 
made for chickens, only the white meat should be used. 


GOLDEN SALAD-DRESSING. >f« 


4 hard-boiled eggs. 

3 table-spoonfuls of best salad oil. 
4 table-spoonfuls vinegar. 

Yolks of 2 eggs, well beaten. 

1 teaspoonful powdered sugar. 

1 teaspoonful essence of celery. 

1 saltspoonful of salt. 

1 saltspoonful pepper. 

1 teaspoonful made mustard. 


Rub the boiled yolks to a powder; add sugar, mus- 


tard, salt, pepper. Work up well with the oil; put in 
gradually. Beat hard; stir in the vinegar, and strain 
out all lumps, rubbing or squeezing the mixture to get 
the full strength. Put over the fire and heat almost to 
boiling. Take a spoonful at a time from the saucepan 
while still on the fire, and beat into the whipped raw 
yolks. Whenall the ingredients are mixed, return to 
the saucepan ; simmer slowly for three minutes, stirring 
all the time. Do not let it boil, as it will be apt to cur- 
dle Put in the celery-essence after withdrawing it from 
therange. Let it get perfectly cold ; pile up lobster and 
lettuce—the first cut into dice, the latter pulled lightly 
apart—in a deep dish, and pour half the dressing over it. 
Give a few tosses with a silver fork; mound up neatly, 
and pour the rest of the sauce over all. 

This dressing is very fine for a mayonnaise of fish. 


ra 


a eee ee ee ee a 


‘s 
or, 


ES A ee Ce a) ee I ee 


arc” ae 





SALADS. 153 
In this case, add a teaspoonful of anchovy sauce after 
it comes from the fire. 


Poraro Satap Dressine. »}< 


2 large boiled potatoes. 

1 teaspoonful powdered sugar. 

1 table-spoonful oil. 

1 saltspoonful made mustard. 

1 saltspoonful salt, and same of pepper. 

1 teaspoonful Harvey’s sauce. 

1 egg, beaten light—white and yolk separate. 

8 table-spoonfuls vinegar. 

Boil the potatoes until mealy, drain every drop of 
water from them; let them dry on the range for an 
instant, and deat up (not mash) them with a fork, toss- 
ing them into lightness and dryness. When fine and 
dry, beat in the salt, oil, and egg; the yolk first, then 
the white, which should be a stiff froth. In another 
vessel have ready mixed the mustard, sauce, sugar, 
pepper, and vinegar. Add by degrees to the potato- 
mixture until it is like thick cream. If not perfectly 
smooth, rub through a coarse wire sieve or a bit of coarse 
lace, such as is used for mosquito netting. 

This, also, is peculiarly nice with salmon, or halibut 
mayonnaise, although excellent with chicken or turkey 
salad. 


We 


VARIOUS PREPARATIONS OF 
; CHEESE. 


Toastep CHEESE. >< 


$ pound cheese—dry—erated. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

1 teaspoonful made mustard. 

A pinch of cayenne pepper. 

1 table-spoonful very fine, stale bread-crumbs— 
soaked in cream. 

Rounds or slices of thin toast, from which the crust 
has been pared. 

Rub the bottom of a heated frying-pan with a cut 
onion, then with butter. Put the cheese into it, stir- 
ring fast to prevent burning. When it has melted, 
put in the butter, the mustard, pepper; lastly the 
bread-crumbs, which have been previously soaked in 
cream, then pressed almost dry. Spread smoking hot 
upon the toast, and eat at once. 


CuEESE Toastep with Eaes. »f« 


$ pound good English cheese. 

3 egos, beaten light. 

3 table-spoonfuls bread-crumbs, soaked in cream. 
1 table-spoonful of mustard. 

Salt and pepper to taste. 


os — 


CHEESE. 155 


A little minced parsley. 

Slices of delicate toast. 

8 table-spoonfuls butter—melted, but not hot. 

Beat the soaked crumb into the eggs; the butter, 
seasoning; lastly, the cheese. Beat very light; spread 
smoothly on the toast and brown quickly upon the upper 
grating of the oven. Be sure the bars are perfectly clean. 


Ourrese with Macaroni. >} 


4 pound macaroni. 

$ cup cream. 

14 table-spoonfuls butter. 

Pepper, salt and parsley. 

1 egg, beaten well, and 1 table-spoonful flour. 

4 table-spoonfuls grated cheese, and a little crumbed 
bread. 

Break the macaroni into inch lengths; boil in 
water slightly salted; drain perfectly dry in a cullen- 
der. Take out two table-spoonfuls of cream, and put 
the rest into a farina-kettle or saucepan, set within 
another-of boiling water. When it is scalding hot, 
salt to taste; add half a table-spoonful of butter, then 
the macaroni, and heat together slowly. They should 
not boil. Meanwhile put the reserved cream into a 
small saucepan. Heat, stir in the table-spoonful of 
butter, pepper and parsley; the flour, wet with cold 
milk, the grated cheese, and when this is dissolved, the 
beaten egg. Pour the macaroni into a neat baking- 
dish, cover with the cheese mixture. Strew the top 
with very fine bread-crumbs, and brown quickly on the 
upper grating of a hot oven. 

This is very good. 


156 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


CuEersE FINGERS. 


Some good pie pastry, “left over” from pie-mak- 
ing. 

3 or 4 table-spoonfuls best English cheese, dry and 
old—grated. 

A little salt and pepper. 

' 1 raw egg. 

Roll the paste out thin; cut into strips about four 
inches long and less than half as wide. Strew each 
with grated cheese, season with pepper and salt, double 
the paste upon it lengthwise, pinch the edges, and when 
all are ready, bake in a quick oven. Wash over with 
beaten egg just before taking them up, and sift a little 
powdered cheese upon the top. Shut the oven-door an 
instant to glaze them well; pile log-cabin-wise upon a 
hot napkin in a warm dish, and eat at once, as they 
are not good cold. 

This will make a savory side-relish for John’s lunch- 
eon onahurried baking-day. Pastry is none the worse 
for standing a day or longer in a cold, dry place, and 
this uses up the “odds and ends” satisfactorily and 
economically. 


CueEEsE Biscuits. 


Some pie-paste. 

Grated cheese. 

1 beaten egg. 

Pepper and salt. Cayenne pepper, if you like. 

Roll out the pastry thin; strew grated cheese, season- 
ed, over the whole sheet and roll it up tightly. Roll 
out again, even thinner than before; strew the rest of the 


CHEESE. 157 


cheese ; roll up and set in a cold place, half’ an hour, 
until crisp. Roll again into a sheet, cut into squares 
or triangles with a cake-cutter, or your Jagging-iron ; 
prick with a fork, and bake very quickly in a hot oven. 
Brush with beaten egg before taking up, and sift rasp- 
ings of cheese over the top, shutting up in the oven for 
an instant to glaze the biscuits. Serve at once, ona 
hot napkin. 

These are, it will be seen, a modification of the 
“fingers,” and will be preferred by some. Of course, 
to those who object to cooked cheese as indigestible, 
none of the combinations that smell so appetizing and 
taste so savory, will be a temptation. Cayenne is said 
to make these more wholesome. 


CHEESE FONDU. > (Delicious.) 


1 cup bread-crumbs—very dry and fine. 

2 scant cups of milk—rich and fresh, or it will curdle. 

% pound dry old cheese, grated. 

3 eggs—whipped very light. 

1 small table-spoonful melted butter. 

Pepper and salt. 

A pinch of soda, dissolved in hot water and stirred 
into the milk. 

Soak the crumbs in the milk; beat into these the 
egos, the butter, seasoning, lastly the cheese. Butter a 
neat baking-dish; pour the fondu into it, strew dry 
bread-crumbs on the top, and bake in a rather quick 
oven until delicately browned. Serve immediately in 
the baking-dish, as it soon falls. 

The day on which this cheese-pudding first appeared 
on my table is marked with a “very good.” Itisa 


158 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


pretty, cheap and palatable entrée, such as you need 
never be ashamed to set before any guest, however 
fastidious. 

Let me say, in this connection, in explanation not 
apology, for my running commentary upon receipts like 
the above, that it is made—the commentary, I mean, 
“with a purpose.” The unexpected guest is sometimes 
an embarrassment, sometimes a horror to the inex- 
perienced housewife. 

“ T remembered the cold duck in the pantry with ex- 
ceeding joy; summed up the contents of bread and cake 
box toa crumb, between the foot of the stairs and the 
front-door,” confessed one to me. “ By the time I had 
said ‘How do you do?’ all around, and kissed the 
babies, I remembered, with a sick thrill, that the butter 
was low and the coffee out (we don’t drink it ourselves), 
and that the whole party of new-comers must, at that 
hour of the evening, be ravenously hungry. 

It is wise and provident to arm oneself against such 
occasions by practice in the manufacture of what may 
be called “surprise-dishes.” With a crust of cheese in 
the larder, half a loaf of dry bread, an egg, a few 
spoonfuls of milk and a bit of butter, one is tolerably 
armed against an unlooked-for and unseasonable arrival. 
Give the guest my fondu, with a good cup of coffee, or 
tea, or glass of ale; bread-and-butter, cut thin, and your 
brightest smile, and he will not complain, even inwardly, 
should the cold duck be wanting. 


Cream OCunerrsz. (No. 1.) 


3 pints of cream, with a teaspoonful of salt put in 
after it sours. 


CHEESE. 159 


An empty salt-box, and } yard of very stout, coarse 
lace. 

Knock top and bottom out of one of the small boxes 
used foreholding table-salt, and cleanse the broad and 
the narrow rims remaining, thoroughly. When dry, 
fit over the bottom of the box itself a piece of new 
strong net lace, or mosquito-netting. Fasten it in 
place by pressing down over it the rim of the top. The 
net should be drawn tightly and smoothly. Tack both 
rim and net to the outside of the box with small tacks 
driven through the former, leaving the heads protrud- 
ing, that they may be easily withdrawn. ‘This is your 
cheese-press. If you can get a small wire sieve with 
coarse meshes, it will save you trouble. The cream 
should have been set aside until it thickens or “ lop- 
pers,” in a solid curd. Inside of your mould lay a 
piece of clean white tarletane, fitted neatly to the 
sides and bottom, and projecting all around above the 
press. Pour in the cream, opening the flakes gently 
with a spoon to allow the whey to reach the bottom of 
the press, but do not stir it. Set the mould upon two 
slender sticks laid on a bowl, and let it drip two days. 
If the mould will not hold all the cream, add it during 
the first day, as the curd sinks. By the third day it 
will be a rich, smooth mass. If not quite firm, trim 
down the round board you took out of the top, cover 
the cheese with a thin cloth, and press the board firmly 
upon it. Lay a weight on this—not heavy enough to 
break the net—and leave for some hours longer. A 
saucer or small plate will do almost as well as 
the board. When the cheese is ready to eat, which 
will be when it is firm, remove the oil from the top by 


160 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


laying a piece of blotting or tissue paper upon it, and 
lift from the mould by taking hold of the projecting 
edges of cloth. It will be found very nice. This is 
the famous English cream cheese. . 


Cream Curzse. (No. 2.) >] 


Make cottage cheese as directed in “ Common Sense 
in the Household,” page 268, or, what is easier, buy 
two or three “pats” of the same from some hon- 
est countrywoman in the market. To each little cheese 
allow a table-spoonful of melted butter, and three or 
four of good sweet cream, with a little salt and pepper. 
Work in the butter first with a silver spoon, and very 
thoroughly, then the cream, until all is lght and 
smooth. Make into neat rolls, or shape into miniature 
cheeses upon a plate ; print as you would butter, and 
set in a cold place half an hour. They should be eaten 
fresh. 


CurEse Parés. pfs 


Rounds of bread, cut and fried as for Swiss pateés. 

5 table-spoonfuls grated cheese. 

4 cup hot water. 

2 eggs, yolks only. 

Pepper and salt. 

Handful bread-crumbs. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

Put the water on the fire, and, when it boils, stir in 
the butter and seasoning, the cheese, and, when this is 
melted, the eggs: Heat together one minute; put in 
the bread-crumbs and pour a good spoonful of the mix- 
ture into each of the cavities left in the rounds of fried 


CHEESE. 161 


bread. Brown very quickly in the oven, and serve on 
a folded napkin. 


CurEsE SANDWICHES.>f« 


4 pound good English cheese—grated. 

3 egos, boiled hard—use the yolks only. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

Thin slices of buttered bread. 

Pepper and salt. 

Rub the yolks to a smooth paste with the butter, sea- 
son, and work in the cheese. Spread the bread, and 
fold upon the mixture. 


RAMAKINS. 


8 table-spoonfuls grated cheese. 

2 egos, beaten light. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

1 teaspoonful anchovy sauce. 

Pepper—cayenne is best. 

1 teaspoonful flour, wet with cream. 

Rounds of lightly-toasted bread. 

Beat the butter and seasoning in with the eggs; then 
the cheese ; lastly the flour; working until the mixture 
is of creamy lightness. Spread thickly upon the 
bread, and brown quickly. 

This is a Dutch compound, but eatable despite the 
odd name, 


Currse Puppina. 


% pound dry cheese, grated fine. 
1 cup dry bread-crumbs. 
4 egos, well beaten. 


162 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 cup minced meat—one-third ham—two-thirds fowl. 

1 cup milk and one of good gravy—vyeal or fowl. 

1 teaspoonful butter, and a pinch of soda in the milk. | 

Season with pepper and a very little salt. 

Stir the milk into the beaten eggs, then the bread 
crumbs, seasoning, meat, lastly, the cheese. Beat up 
well, but not too long, else the milk may, in spite of the 
soda, curdle. 

Butter a mould; pour in the pudding, cover, and 
boil three-quarters of an hour steadily. ‘Turn out upon 
a hot dish, and pour the gravy over it. 





POTATOES. 


Porators A LA Lyonnaltse.che 


12 potatoes, parbodled, and when cold, sliced, or cut 
into dice. 

1 onion, chopped. 

Butter or dripping for frying. 

Chopped parsley, pepper and salt. 

Heat the butter in a frying-pan; put in the onion; 
fry one minute; then the potatoes. Stir briskly and- 
fry slowly five minutes. There should be butter enough 
to keep them from sticking to the bottom of the pan; 
and they should not brown. Add the seasoning just 
before you take them up. Drain perfectly dry by 
shaking them to and fro ina heated cullender. Serve 
in a hot dish. 


StewEeD PoraTors.} 


12 fine potatoes. 

1 ege, beaten light. 

1 great spoonful of butter. 

1 table-spoonful flour, wet with cold milk. 

1 cup of milk. 

Chopped parsley, salt and pepper. 

Peel and lay the potatoes in cold water for half an 
hour. Then slice or eut into dice into more cold water, 
just enough to cover them. Boil gently in this until 
tender ; but not until they are apaste. Dra‘n off nearly 


164 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


all the water; put pepper, salt, and the milk in with the 
potatoes left in the saucepan, and heat again to boiling 
before stirring in the flour. Cook two minutes, stir 
ing up from the bottom to prevent scorching ; add the 


ego, parsley and butter, and pour into a covered dish. 


F'rrep Porarors.rf« 


12 potatoes. 

Butter or dripping for frying. 

Salt to taste. 

Peel the potatoes ; cut from end to end in even strips, 
by first halving, then quartering each; cutting into 
eighths, and if the potato be large, into sixteenths. 
The more regular the shape and uniform the size the 
better the dish will look. Lay these in cold—ice-water 
if you have it—for at least halfan hour; then upon a 
dry cloth, covering with another and patting the upper 
gently to dry each piece. The butter or dripping 
should be boiling hot. Fry the potatoes briskly, turn- 
ing as the lower side is done to a yellow-brown. As 
you take them out of the fat—which should be done 
the instant they are of the right color—put into a hot 
cullender set over a plate in the open oven, and sprinkle 
with salt. Serve in a napkin laid within a hot dish 
and folded lightly over them. A dish-cover would 
make them “soggy,” whereas they should be crisp. 


ScALLOPED PoTATOERs. 


3 cups mashed potatoes. 
8 table-spoonfuls cream. 
2 table-spoonfuls butter. 
Salt and pepper. 


POTATOES. 165 


Yolks of four hard-boiled eggs. 

1 raw egg, beaten well. 

Handful dry, fine bread-crumbs. 

Beat up the potatoes while hot, with the cream, but 
ter and raw egg, seasoning well. Put a layer in the 
bottom of a buttered baking-dish ; cover this with thin 
slices of yolk, salt and pepper; then another layer of 
potato, and so on, until all the materials are used up. 
The top layer should be potato. Strew bread-crumbs 
thickly over this. Bake covered until hot through, 
then brown quickly. Serve in the baking-dish. 


Porators A UIrarrenne. (Lxtremely nice.)rfa 


Enough mealy potatoes to make a good dish, boiled 
dry. 

2 table-spoonfuls of cream. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

Salt and pepper. 

2 eggs, yolks and whites beaten separately. 

Whip up the potatoes, while hot, with a silver fork, 
instead of using the potato-beetle. This is, by the way, 
a much better method of mashing potato than that 

usually adopted. The potato is dried of all superfluous 
- moisture, made whiter and lighter than by pounding. 
When it is fine and mealy, beat in the cream, the but- 
ter, salt, pepper, and whip up to a creamy heap before 
mixing in, with few dexterous strokes, the whites, which 
should be first whipped stiff. Pile irregularly upon a 
buttered pie-dish; brown quickly in the oven; slip 
carefully, with the help of a cake-turner, to a heated 
flat dish, and send up. 


166 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Porators A 1A DucHEssn.r}« 


When you cook potatoes a ? Ltalienne prepare more 
than will be needed for one day. Cut the remnants, 
when perfectly cold, into squares or rounds with a 
cake-cutter, wet in cold water. Grease the bottom ofa 
baking-pan and set these in it In rows, but not touch- 
ing one another, and bake quickly, brushing them all 
over, except, of course, on the bottom, with beaten egg 
when they begin to brown. Lay a napkin, folded, upon 
a hot dish, and range these regularly upon it. 

They are very fine, and considered quite a fancy 
dish. 


Porato Hacs.rf« 


2 cups cold (or hot) mashed potato. 

$ cup of cold ham, minced very fine. 

2 egos, beaten light. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

2 table-spoonfuls cream or rich milk. 

Pepper and salt, and dripping for frying. 

1 cup good gravy. 

Work the butter into the potato, the cream, season- 
ing, and, when the mixture is free from lumps, the ~ 
beaten eggs. Beat all up light before the ham goes in. 
Flour your hands; make this paste into egg-shaped 
balls; roll these in flour and fry in good dripping; 
turning them carefully, not to spoil the shape. Pile 
upon a flat dish, and pour some good gravy, hot, over 
them. 

If you have nothing else of which gravy can be 
made, boil the ham-bone or a few slices of ham ina little 





- 


POTATOES. 167 


water; thicken with flour; add a little butter, parsley, 
pepper and a beaten egg; boil up until it thickens. 

The above is a simple, but very good preparation of 
potato. . You will not grudge the little additional time 
and trouble required to make pretty and palatable the 
remnants of ham and potato, that, served plain, would 
tempt no one except a very hungry man. 

For many other ways of cooking this invaluable 
vegetable, for breakfast and luncheon, as well as for 
dinner, the reader is referred to the section—“ Pota- 
toes,” in “ Common Sense in the Household,” page 210. 


LUNCHEON. 


A youne friend of mine who had not long been a 
wife and housekeeper, on returning from a morning 
drive, one day, was met at the door by the intelligence 
that her widower brother, who was a member of her 
family, had brought three gentlemen home with him to 
dinner. Her husband had not yet come in, and al- 
though not naturally nervous, she repaired forthwitie 
and in some trepidation, to the kitchen, to see for hee 
self that the early dinner, which was then customary in 
the household, because more convenient for the mas 
ter’s business, was in satisfactory progress. 

The range was hot and the top empty; the tables 
clean and also empty; ditto the cook’s hands, while her 
terrified face had the hue of her whitest dish-towel. 

“Don’t you think, ma’am,” was her salutation, “ that 
the marketing has never come home at all, at all, and 
not abit of meat, nor so much as a pertater in the 
house! Whatever will we do? and lashin’s of company 
in onexpected ! ” 

The mistress was equally dismayed when a glance at 
the clock showed that it was past twelve. The 
market-house closed at noon ; her residence was out of 
the region of butchers’ and green-grocers’ shops. It was 


evident that the plethoric hamper, she had seen filled 


by her usually careful provision merchant and left at 





LUNCHEON. 169 


his stand in the market to be delivered at her door 
early in the forenoon, had miscarried, or been over- 
looked. 

“Whatever shall we do?” The despairing cry rang 
through her like a knell; a cold trembling seized her 
limbs, and she dropped helplessly into a chair. 

“ Has nothing come, Mary? Not even the meat for 
soup?” 

“ Sorra a sup, ma’am.” 

“Cannot you think of something that can be made 
quickly? You told me you were a good hand at get- 
ting up nice dishes at short notice !” 

The Celt’s pose was tragic. 

“ Aw it was a thrue word I spake, whin I said it. 
But an angel couldn’t make something out of nothing, 
or it’s meself that would thry!” 

Matters were too serious for the poor lady to suffer 
her to smile at the implied assumption of angelic rela- 
tionship. 

“ Something must be done, nevertheless,” she uttered, 
desperately, and, with a woman’s instinct of leaning 
upon rugged masculine strength when deserted by 
feminine wit, she sought the billiard-room, whither the 
inconsiderate brother had conducted his visitors, happily 
unsuspicious as themselves of the poverty-stricken lar- 
der, or the qualms that were racking the secretary of 
the interior. 

He showed an exasperatingly good-humored face at 
the door in answer to her knock. 

“Come in!” he said blithely, and would have flung 
wide the door, but for the agonized gesture that beck- 


- oned him into the entry. 
8 


170 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


In a whisper as agonized, she explained the situation. 
He reflected a moment. 

“Any pie, or cake in the house? fruit, fresh or pre- 
served?” 

“Yes, all,” impatiently. “ But it isn’t a question of 
dessert. There is literally nothing for dimmer.” 

“J understand! Ihave it! We’ll be fashionable for 
once. Setonsardines, cheese, pie, cake, claret and sau- 
terne, and a dish or two of fruit. Make a royally strong 
cup of coffee to wind up with, and call at luncheon !” 

In fifteen minutes the guests were summoned to the 
dining-room, where the pretty hostess, in a becoming 
demi-toilette, weleomed them as the friends of her hus- 
band and brother, and presided over the collation from 
which not one of them perceived that anything was lack- 
ing, like a gracious little queen. A lisp of apology 
would have spoiled all, and she had tact enough to 
avoid the danger. 

“That man is a Napoleon in small matters!” said I, 
when she told me the story. “If he never says another 
good thing, his—‘ Call it luncheon,’ should win him 
lasting fame with all housekeepers who hearken to the 
tale of his masterly strategy.” 

I have given the anecdote at length, that the reader 
may have the benefit of all the lessons it conveys. 

Tirst—Assure yourself, whenever it is practicable, 
that the materials for dinner are in the house several 
hours before the time for serving it arrives. 

Secondly—lIt is a wise plan to keep sardines, canned 
salmon and lobster, cheese, and potted meats on hand 
always, with preserved fruits, and not to let the stores 
of cake and crackers run too low. 


% 
; 
‘ 





LUNCHEON. 171 


Thirdly—There is scarcely an imaginable domestic 
disaster on an ordinary scale, that cannot be rectified, 
or, at least, modified into passableness by presence of 
mind and energetic action. “Call it luncheon,” is a 
capital motto in other and graver perplexities than the 
non-arrival of a day’s marketing, and where higher in- 
terests are concerned than the feasting or fasting of 
half a dozen people. 


VEGETABLES. 


Frmep Eee Piantop 


1 fine egg-plant. 

2 eggs. 

4 cup milk. 

A little salt. 

Flour for thin batter, and lard, or dripping, for fry- 
ing. Slice and pare the egg-plant, and lay in salt-and- 
water one hour. Wipe perfectly dry, make a batter 
as directed above, dip each piece in it, and fry to a 
fine brown. Drain dry, and serve on hot, flat dish. 


Mock Friep Oysters.» 


1 bunch oyster-plant, or salsify. 

2 egos—well beaten. 

$ cup milk. 

Flour for thin batter, and lard or dripping for fry- 
ing. 

Pepper and salt. 

Wash, scrape and grate the salsify, and stir into the 
batter, beating hard at the last. It should be about as 
thick as fritter batter. Season, and drop, by the 
spoonful, into the hot fat. ‘Try a little, at first, to see 
if batter and fat are right. As fast as they are fried, 
throw into a hot cullender, set over a bowl in the 
oven. Send to table dry and hot. 

They are delicious if eaten at once. 


VEGETABLES. AW gs eve 


Mock Srewep Oysters.r¥« 


1 bunch oyster-plant. 

4 table-spoonfuls butter. 

A little flour or corn-starch. 

Vinegar-and-water for boiling. 

Pepper and salt. 

$ cup milk. 

Wash and scrape the oyster-plant very carefully ; 
drop into weak vinegar-and-water, bring quickly to a 
boil, and cook ten minutes; turn off the vinegar- 
water; rinse the salsify in boiling water; throw this 
out, and cover with more from the tea-kettle. Stew 
gently ten minutes longer; add pepper and salt and 
two table-spoonfuls butter. Stew in this until tender. 

Meanwhile, heat, in a farina-kettle, the milk, 
thicken, add the remaining butter, and keep hot until 
the salsify is done, when transfer it to this sauce. 
Bepper and salt ; let all lie together in the inner ket- 
tle, the water in the outer at a slow boil, for five min. 
utes. Pour into a covered dish. 


Frirrers or CanneD Corn.es 


1 can sweet corn, drained in a cullender. 
3 egos—very light. 
1 cup of milk. 
' Pepper and salt. 
1 table-spoonful butter. 
Flour for thin batter. 
Dripping for frying. 
A pinch of soda. 
Beat up the batter well, stir in the corn and drop 


174 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


the mixture in spoonfuls into the boiling fat. Drain 
off all the grease in a cullender. 


Or, 


You may fry on the griddle as you would cakes. 


Drvittep ToMATOEs. 


Fine, firm tomatoes—about a quart. 
3 hard-boiled eggs—the yolks only. 
8 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 

8 table-spoonfuls vinegar. 

2 raw eggs, whipped light. 

1 teaspoonful powdered sugar. 

1 saltspoonful salt. 

1 teaspoonful made mustard. 

A good pinch of cayenne pepper. : 
Pound the boiled yolks; rub in the butter and sea- 
soning. Beat light, add the vinegar, and heat almost 
toa boil. Stir in the beaten ege until the mixture be- 
gins to thicken. Set in hot water while you cut the 
tomatoes in slices nearly half an inch thick. Broil 
over a clear fire upon a wire oyster-broiler. Lay on a 

hot chafing-dish, and pour the hot sauce over them. 


Baxep TomaToEs.>f« 


1 quart fine smooth tomatoes. The “Trophy,” if 
you can get them. 

1 cup bread-crumbs. 

1 small onion, minced fine. 

1 teaspoonful white sugar. 

1 table-spoonful butter—melted. 

Cayenne and salt. 


VEGETABLES. 175 


4 cup good broth. 

Cut a piece from the top of each tomato. With a 
teaspoon take out the inside, leaving a hollow shell. 
Chop the pulp fine, mix with the crumbs, butter, 
sugar, pepper, salt and onion. Fill the cavities of the 
tomatoes with this stuffing; replace the tops; pack 
them in a baking-dish and fill the interstices with the 
stuffing. Pour the gravy also into these; set the dish 
covered in an oven, and bake half an hour, before un- 
covering, after which brown lightly, and send to table 
in the baking-dish. 


BREAKFAST-ROLLS, MUFFINS, 
TEA-CAKES, ETC. 


Corn Cake. »}« 


3 eggs, whipped light, yolks and whites separately. 

2 cups sour, or dieses 

3 vicina melted butter. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in boiling water. 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 small teaspoonful of salt. 

Corn-meal enough to make a rather thin batter. 
Bake in a shallow pan, or in small tins 80 minutes in 
a hot oven. 


ADIRONDACK Corn-DReEap. >fs 


5 great spoonfuls Indian meal. 

3 great spoonfuls wheat flour. 

5 egos, well-beaten—whites and yolks me 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 small teacupful melted butter. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream tartar, sifted into the flour. 

1 pint milk, or enough to make batter about the 
consistency of pound-cake. 

Melt, but do not heat the butter; add to the milk 
and beaten yolks; next, the soda; then, the meal, 
alternately with the whites ; then, the sugar, lastly the 
flour, through which the cream tartar has been sifted, 





eat 


ee ee ne ed 


SOT GEA Oe Ce a OE Ma ee ee EO ee ee Se eS ee a 


° BREAD. LUZ 


stirring it lightly and swiftly. Bake in a broad, shal- 
low pan, in a tolerably brisk oven,—or, if you prefer, 
in muffin-rings. 


Loar Corn-Breap. (Lixcellent.) % 


2 heaping cups white Indian meal. 

1 heaping cup flour. 

3 eggs—whites and yolks beaten separately. 

2% cups of milk. 

1 large table-spoonful of butter—melted, but not hot. 

1 large table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoontfuls cream-tartar, sifted with the flour, 
and added the last thing. 

1 teaspoonful of salt. 

Bake steadily, but not too fast, in a well-greased 
mould. Turn out, when done, upon a plate, and eat 
at once, cutting it into slices as you would cake. 

After twelve years’ trial of this receipt, I have come 
to the conclusion that there is no better or more reli- 
able rule for the manufacture of corn-bread. In all 
that time, there has hardly been a Sunday morning, 
winter or summer, when the family was at home, on 
which a loaf of this bread has not graced my breakfast- 
table, and unless when, through negligence, it has 
been slightly scorched or underdone, I have never 
known it to come short of excellence. 

In cutting corn-bread, do not forget to hold the 
knife perpendicularly, that the spongy interior of the 
loaf may not be crushed into heaviness. Very good 
corn-bread is often ruined by neglect of this precau- 


tion. 
8* 


178 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Corn-Meat Morrins. (/?azsed.) fx 


3 cups white Indian meal. 

3 table-spoonfuls yeast. 

1 cup flour. 

1 quart scalding milk. 

3 eggs, beaten to a froth, yolks and whites apart. 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 table-spoonful lard. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

Pour the milk boiling hot upon the meal; stir well 
and leave until nearly cold. Then beat in gradually 
the yeast, sugar and flour, and set in a moderately 
warm place. It should be light enough in five or six 
hours. Melt, without overheating, the butter and 
lard ; stir into the batter, with the salt, lastly the 
beaten eggs. Beat all together three minutes; put in 
greased muflin-rings ; let these rise on the hearth for a 
quarter of an hour, with a cloth thrown lightly over 
them. Bake about twenty minutes in a quick, steady 
oven, or until they are of a light golden-brown. 

Send at once to table, and 1 in eating them, break, not 
cut them open. 


Corn-Mrat Morrins. (Qutckh.) of 


2 cups Indian meal. 

1 cup flour. 

3 eggs, beaten very light. 

3 cups milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 
1 table-spoonful white sugar. 





BREAD. 179 


1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream tartar, sifted with flour. 

Mix quickly, beating all the ingredients well to- 
gether; pour into greased muffin-rings, or, better still, 
into the small round or oval iron pans, now sold for 
baking corn-bread. Bake in a brisk oven, and send 
directly to table. Add kinds of corn-bread are spoiled 
af al’ wed to cool before they are eaten. 


Ourissiz’s Corn-BREAD. 


1 cup white corn-meal. 

1 cup flour. 

4 cup white sugar. 

1 cup cream and 1 egg, or 1 cup half-milk, half- 
cream, and 2 eggs. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot. water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream tartar, sifted in the flour. 

1 saltspoonful salt. 

Bake in two loaves, or several small tins. 


SouTHEerN Barrer-Breap or Eac-BREAp. >}« 


2 cups white Indian meal. 

1 cup cold boiled rice. 

3 egos, well beaten. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

24 cups milk, or enough for soft batter. 
1 teaspoonful of salt. 

A pinch of soda. | 
Stir the beaten eggs into the milk; the meal, salt, 
butter, last of all the rice. Beat up well from the 
bottom for two or three minutes, and bake quickly in 

a round, shallow pan. 


180 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


Barrer Breap. (No. 2.) 


2 cups Indian meal. 

34 cups milk. 

2 egos, well beaten. 

1 small cup stale, fine bread-crumbs. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

1 table-spoonful melted lard. 

4 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water, and 
reed with the milk. 

1 teaspoonful cream tartar. 

Soak the bread-crumbs in the milk, and rub to a 
smooth paste. Into this stir the beaten eggs, the lard, 
the salt, and finally the meal, into which the cream 
tartar has been sifted. 

Bake in shallow pans in a hot oven. 


Borep Mus, ro BE Eaten wit Minx. 


1 quart boiling water. 

2 cups Indian meal. 

2 table-spoonfuls flour. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

Wet up meal and flour in a little cold water. Stir 
them into the hot water, which should be actually boil- 
ing on the fire when they goin. Soil at least half an 
hour, slowly, stirring deeply every few minutes, and 
constantly toward the last. Send to table in a deep 
dish, but not covered, or the steam will render it 
clammy. 

Eat in saucers, with cream or milk poured over it. 


BREAD. 181 


OatMEAL Porripge (for breakfast). 


1 quart boiling water. 

2 scant cups best Scotch or Irish oatmeal , previously 
soaked over night in enough cold water to cover it well. 

Salt to taste. ? 

Stir the oatmeal into the water while boiling, and 
let it boil steadily, stirring up frequently from the 
bottom, for at least three-quarters of an hour. Send 
to table in an uncovered deep dish, to be eaten with 
cream, and, if you like, with powdered sugar. 

This is a wholesome and pleasant article of food. 
If you give it a place upon your regular bill of fare, 
you would do well to provide yourself with a farina- 
kettle expressly for cooking it. 


OatMEAL GRuEL (Lor Lnwalids). rf« 

2 cups Irish or Scotch oatmeal. 

2 quarts water. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

Set the oatmeal to soak over night in half the water. 
In the morning strain through a coarse tartelane bag, 
pressing through all the farinaceous matter that will 
go. Add the rest of the water with the salt, and boil 
down until it begins to thicken perceptibly. Let it 
cool enough to become almost a jelly, and eat with 
powdered sugar and cream. 

It is very good for others besides invalids. 


Mix Porrinex. (Very nice.) Js 
2 cups best oatmeal. 
2 cups water. 
2 cups milk. 


182 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Soak the oatmeal over night in the water; strain in 
the morning, and boil the water half an hour. Put in 
the milk with a little salt, boil up well and serve. Eat 
warm, with or without powdered sugar. 


Tra Rotts. 

1 quart of flour. 

2 eggs. 

1 table-spoonful butter, melted. 

2 great spoonfuls yeast. 

Enough milk to work into a soft dough. 

1 saltspoonful salt. 

1 teaspoonful white sugar. ; 

Rub the butter into the sifted flour. Beat the eggs 
well with a cup of milk, and work into the flour, add- 
ing more milk, if necessary, to make the dough of right 
consistency. Stir the sugar into the yeast, and work 
this into the dough with a wooden spoon, until all the 
ingredients are thoroughly incorporated. Do not knead 
at with the hands. Set to rise in a moderately warm 
place until very light. Make into rolls lightly and 
quickly, handling as little as possible. Set these in 
rows in your baking-pan, just close enough together to 
touch. Throw a cloth lightly over them, and set on 
the hearth for the second rising, until they begin to 
“plump,” which should be in about fifteen minutes. 

Bake half an hour in a steady oven. They are best 
eaten hot. 

Frenou Rots. 

1 pint of milk. 

2 eggs. 

4 table-spoonfuls of yeast. 


BREAD. 183 


8 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

1 teaspoonful of salt. 

8 pints of flour, or enough to work into a soft 
dough. 

1 table-spoonful of white sugar. 

Warm the milk slightly, and add to it the beaten 
eggs and salt. Rub the butter into the flour quickly 
and lightly, until it is like yellow powder. Work into 
this gradually, with a wooden spoon, the milk and eggs, 
then the yeast. Knead well, and let it rise for three 
hours, or until the dough is light and begins to crack 
on top. Make into small rolls; let them stand on the 
hearth twenty minutes before baking in a quick oven. 
Just before taking them up, brush over with white of 
ege. Shut the oven door one minute to glaze them. 


PLAIN tiaut Rotts. 


1 quart of flour. 

1 heaping table-spoonful butter or lard. 

3 large table-spoonfuls yeast. 

1 cup of warm milk. 

Salt to taste. 

Rub the butter and flour together; add milk and 
yeast. Knead well; let it rise until light; make into 
rolls; et these stand in a warm place half an hour, and 
bake in a steady oven. 


Rice Croumpets. >fs 
2 cups of milk. 
4 table-spoonfuls yeast. 
1 table-spoonful white sugar. 
2 table-spoonfuls melted butter. 


184 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Nearly a cup of well-boiled rice. 

4 cups flour, or enough to make good batter. 

Salt to taste. 

4 teaspoonful of soda added just before baking. 

Beat the ingredients well together ; set to rise for six 
hours, or until very light. Put into muffin-tins (having 
stirred in the soda, dissolved in a little hot water), let 
them stand fifteen minutes, and bake quickly. Lat 
hot. 


Hominy CruMPETS 


Are made as above, substituting boiled hominy (or 
samp) for the rice. 


Aut-pay Rotts. 

1 quart flour. 

1 cup scalded milk, no¢ boiled.. 

2 table-spoonfuls yeast. 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

A very little salt. 

Let the milk cool, mix with yeast, sugar, and one 
cup of flour. Put the rest of the flour intoa bowl, 
make a well in the middle, pour in the mixture, and 
set aside in a moderately warm place until next day. 
In the morning melt the butter, and add to the sponge ; 
work all together well, and let the dough rise six hours, 
at least. Make into oblong rolls; range them in 
baking-pan, at such a distance from one another that. 
they will not run together, and let them rise three 
hours longer. Bake in a steady quick oven, glazing, 
when done, with white of egg. | 

I have never tried this receipt myself, but having 


BREAD. 185 


eaten the rolls made according to it, can cordially re- 
commend it. 
Unrry Loar, pf. 

1 quart flour. 

1 pint milk. 

1 tablespoonful butter, melted. 

1 egg. 

1 saltspoonful salt. 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

1 dessertspoonful (equal to 2 teaspoonfuls) cream 
tartar, sifted in the flour. 

Mix the beaten egg with the milk, then the butter, 
sugar, salt and soda; next, the flour. Beat well, and 
bake in buttered cake-mould. The oven should be 
quite hot,and very steady. ‘Turn out, and cut in slices 
at table. Eat hot. 

A simple, easy and excellent breakfast or tea-loaf. 


Quick Loar, pf« 


8 cups flour. 

1 cup milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls white sugar. 

2 eggs, thoroughly beaten. 

1 table-spoonful butter—a liberal one. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream tartar, sifted in flour. 

1 saltspoonful salt. 

Beat well, but quickly together, and bake in well- 
greased mould. One with a cylinder in the middle is 
best. Test with a straw to see when it is done; turn 
out upon a plate, and cut hot at table into slices. 


his 


186 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Excettent Morrins. 

3 cups milk. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

2 egos—beaten stiff. 

3 table-spoonfuls good yeast. 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 teaspoonful salt, and 4 teaspoonful soda. 

Tlour to make a pretty stiff batter. 

Make all the ingredients except the eggs, into a 
sponge, and set to rise over night. Half an hour before 
breakfast, add the eggs and the soda (dissolved in hot 
water); beat all together hard; put into muffin-rings ; 
let them stand on the hearth ten minutes, and bake 
about twenty in a brisk oven.’ 


Brown Biscutr. »f« 


2 cups Graham flour. 

1 cup white flour. 

1 cup milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls brown sugar. 

4 table-spoonfuls home-made yeast, or half as much 
brewer's. 

1 great spoonful melted butter. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

4 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Set a dough made of all the ingredients except the 
butter and soda, to rise over night. In the morning, 
add these ; knead quickly, roll into a sheet half an inch 
thick, cut with a cake-cutter; range in the baking-pan. 
When it is full, set on the warm hearth ten minutes be- 
fore baking. 


Sa eee, ee 


BREAD. 187 


Minvte Biscuit, (brown.) > 


2 cups Graham flour. 

1 cup white flour. . 

2 table-spoonfuls mixed butter and lard. 

1 table-spoonful light-brown sugar. 

3 cups milk, or enough for soft dough. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream tartar, sifted in flour. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 
_ Chop the shortening into the flour; add sugar and 
salt, at last the milk in which the soda has been put. 
Roll out, with as little handling as may be, into a rather 
thick sheet. Cut into round cakes; prick witha fork, 
and bake immediately in a brisk oven. 

These biscuits are very good and wholesome. 


Grauam Gems. (No. 1.) 


1 quart water. 

1 cup molasses. 

1 yeast-cake, or 4 table-spoonfuls best yeast. 

1 saltspoonful salt. 

Flour to make thick batter. 

When light, bake in hot “ gem ” pans, or iron muffin- 
rings, in a very quick oven. 

Break open and eat hot. 


Granam Gems. (No 2.) 
1 quart of milk. 


4 eggs. 
1 Beata) salt, and 2 table-spoonfuls eee 
butter. 


188 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Flour for tolerably thick batter, about the consis- 
tency of pound cake. 

Stir the eggs until whites and yolks are mixed, but 
do not whip them. The milk should be blood-warm 
when these are put into it. Add the flour, handful by 
handful, and when of the right consistency, the melted 
butter. Beat long and hard. 

Bake in greased iron pans—“ gem” pans, as they are 
called—previously heated on the range. The oven can 
hardly be over-heated for any kind of “gems.” 


Grauam Gems. (No. 3.) 


3 egos, beaten very light. 

3 cups of milk—blood-warm. | 
3 cups flour, or enough to make good batter. 
1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

1 saltspoonful salt. ! 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 


Rusx. (No. 1.) 


1 quart flour. 

8 cups milk, slightly warmed. 

3 egos—whites and yolks separate. 

# cup of butter, rubbed with the sugar to a cream, 
and flavored with 1 saltspoonful nutmeg. 

1 gill yeast. 

Make a sponge of milk, yeast, and enough flour for 
rather thick batter. Let it rise over night. In the 
morning add the rest of the four. The dough should 
be quite soft. Work in the eggs, butter and sugar. 
Knead well, and set to rise where it will not “ take 
cold.” When light, mould into rolls. Set close to- 


BREAD. 189 


gether in a baking-pan, and bake about twenty min- 
utes. Glaze while hot with white of egg, in which has 
been stirred—not beaten, a little powdered sugar. 


Susie’s Rusx. (No. 2.) ofa 


1 quart milk. 

% cup yeast. 

Flour for thick batter. 

Set a sponge with these ingredients. When it is very 
light, add,— 

1 cup butter rubbed to a cream, with 

2 cups powdered sugar. 

3 eggs—well beaten. 

Flour to make soft dough. Knead briskly, and set 
_ to rise for four hours. Then make into rolls, and let 
these stand an hour longer, or until light and “ puffy,” 
before baking. Glaze, just before drawing them from 
the oven, witha little cream and sugar. 

Rusk are best fresh. 


Sopa Biscurr wirnout Mixx. pf. 


1 quart of flour. 

2 heaping table-spoonfuls butter, chopped up in the 
flour. 

2 cups cold water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream tartar, sifted thoroughly with 
the flour. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in boiling water. 

A little salt. | 

When flour, cream of tartar, salt and butter are well 
incorporated, stir the soda into the cold water, and mix 
the dough very quickly, handling as little as may be. 


190 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


It should be just stiff enough to roll out. Stiff soda 
biscuits are always failures. Roll half an inch thick 
with a few rapid strokes, cut out, and bake at once in 
a quick oven. 


Cream Toast. (Very nice.) rfa 


Slices of stale baker’s bread, from which the crust 
has been pared. 

1 quart of milk. 

3 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

Whites of 3 eggs, beaten stiff. 

Salt, and 2 table-spoonfuls best flour or corn-starch. 

Boiling water. 

Toast the bread to a golden brown. Burnt toast is 
detestable. Have on the range, or hearth, a shallow 
bowl or pudding-dish, more than half full of boiling 
water, in which a table-spoonful of butter has been 
melted. As each slice is toasted dip in this for a 
second, sprinkle lightly with salt, and lay in the deep 
heated dish in which it is to be served. Have ready, by 
the time all the bread is toasted, the milk scalding hot 
—but not boiled. Thicken this with the flour; let it 
simmer until cooked ; put in the remaining butter, and 
when this is melted, the beaten whites of the eggs. 
Boil up once, and pour over the toast, lifting the lower 
slices one by one, that the creamy mixture may run in 
between them. Cover closely, and set in the oven two 
or three minutes before sending to table. 

_ If you can get real cream, add only a teaspoonful of 
flour and the whites of two eggs, but the same quantity 
of butter used in this receipt. 


GRIDDLE OAKES. 
Sour Mirx Caress. ((ood.) vf« 


1 quart sour, or “loppered ” milk. 

About 4 cups sifted flour. 

2 teaspoonfuls soda, dissolved in boiling water. 

3 table-spoonfuls molasses. 

Salt to taste. 

Mix the molasses with the milk. Put the flour into 
a deep bowl, mix the salt through it; make a hole in 
the middle, and pour in the milk, gradually stirring the 
flour down into it with a wooden spoon. The batter 
should not be too thick. When all the milk is in, beat 
until the mixture is free from lumps and very smooth. 
Add the soda-water, stir up fast and well, and bake 
immediately. | 

These cakes are simple, economical, wholesome, and 
extremely nice. ‘“ Loppered” milk, or “clabber,” is 
better than buttermilk. Try them! 


BurrerMILk CAKES. 


3 cups buttermilk. 

3 cups flour, or enough for good batter. 

1 great Saget clad butter. 

1 table-spoonful brown sugar. 

1 full teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 
Salt to taste. 

Mix as directed in last receipt, and bake at once. 


192 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


GranpMA’s Caxss. phe 


1 quart loppered milk—if half cream, all the better. 

1 table-spoonful molasses—noé¢ syrup. 

2 eggs, beaten light. 

1 good teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Salt to taste. 

Flour for good batter. Begin with three even cups. 

Stir the molasses into the milk, then the eggs and salt. 
Make a hole in the flour, and mix as you would “ sour 
milk cakes” (the last receipt but one). Beat in the sod 
at the last. 

Rice or Hominy Caxzs. >f« 

1 quart milk. 

2 cups soft-boiled rice or hominy. 

3 egos, beaten light. 

1 great snoontalt melted butter or lard. 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

About one large cup of prepared dlr ee enough 
to hold the mixture together. 

A. little salt. 

Work the butter into the rice, then the sugar and 
salt ;—the eggs, beating up very hard; lastly the milk 
and flour, alternately, until the batter is free from lumps 
of dry flour. 

These are wholesome and delicious, and not less so 
if the batter be made a little thicker, and baked in 
muffin-rings. © 

Corn-MEAL FLApPsAOKS. >f« 

1 quart boiling milk. 

2 cups Indian meal—white. That known as “corn- 
flour” is best. 





CAKES. 193 


1 scant cup flour. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

1 table-spoonful brown sugar, or molasses. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in a little hot milk. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

2 eggs, whites and yolks beaten separately. 

Scald the meal over night with the hot milk. Put 
with this the butter and sugar. Cover and let it stand 
until morning. Add the yolks of the eggs, the salt and 
flour. If the batter has thickened up too much, thin 
with cold milk, before stirring in the soda. The whites 
should go in last, and be whipped in lightly. 

These are the “cakes trimmed with lace” of which 
we read in Mrs. Whitney’s always charming—* We 
Girls.” 


Rice Caxzs. >} 


1 cup raw rice 

1 quart milk. 

3 eggs—very light. 

4 cup rice-flour. 

1 table-spoonful sugar, and same of butter. 

+ teaspoonful soda, dissolved i in hot water. 

} teaspoonful cream of fartar. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

Soak the rice five or six hours (all night is not too 
long) in warm water enough to cover it. Then boil 
slowly in the same until it is very soft. While still 
warm—not hot, stir in the butter and sugar, the salt 
and milk. When cold, put in the eggs. Sift the 
cream of tartar into the rice-flour, and when you have 


beaten the soda into the batter, add these. 
9 


194 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TRA. 


These cakes should be so tender as almost to melt in 
the mouth. 


Suste’s Frannet Caxgs. ( Wethout eggs.) »fa 


2 cups white Indian meal. 

2 quarts milk. 

$ cup yeast. 

Flour for good batter. 

Boiling water. 

A little salt. 

Scald the meal with a pint or so of boiling water. 
While still warm stir in the milk, and strain through 
a cullender; then, add the flour, lastly the yeast. 
Cover and let the batter stand until morning. Salt, 
and if at all sour stir in a little soda. 

These cakes will make a pleasant variety with 
“buckwheats,” in the long winter season. They will 
be found very good—so good that one will hardly be- 
lieve that they contain neither “shortening” nor eggs. 

“You can put in an egg or two, if you wish,” says 
“Susie,” modestly, “but to my notion they are quite 
as nice without.” 

And we, who have tested the “ flannel” of her mak- 
ing, are content to “ let welfenough alone.” 


Farina GRIDDLE Cakxs. > 


4 table-spoonfuls farina. 

1 quart milk. 

2 egos, well beaten. 

Enough prepared flour for good batter. 
Boiling water. 

Salt to taste. — 





CAKES. 195 


1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

Scald the farina over night with a pint or more of 
boiling water, and let it stand until morning. Thin 
with the milk, beating it in gradually to avoid Jump- 
ing. Next, the beaten eggs, the salt and butter. At 
last the flour stirred in with light, swift strokes. Do 
not get the batter too thick. 

Bake at once. 

If you have not prepared flour at hand, use family 
flour, with a teaspoonful of soda and two of cream 
tartar. 


GRAHAM GRIDDLE CAKES. >} 


1 cup Indian meal scalded with a pint of boiling 
water. 

1 quart of milk. 

4 cup yeast. 

1 cup cold water. 

1 cup white flour. 

1 cup Graham flour. 

1 great spoonful molasses. 

1 great spoonful butter or lard. 

4 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Salt to taste. | 

Scald and strain the meal over night ; thin with the 
milk, and make into a sponge with the Graham flour, 
molasses and yeast. In the morning, add salt, white 
flour, soda and butter, and stir in enough cold water to 
make batter of the right consistency. 

Graham and Indian cakes are far more wholesome 
in the spring of the year than any preparation of 
buckwheat. , 


WHAT I KNOW ABOU a 
BEATERS. 


In no department of nice cookery are the effects of 
lax or hasty manipulation more sadly and frequently 
apparent than in such dishes as are dependent for ex- 
cellence upon the lightness and smoothness of beaten 
eggs. Unless yolks are whipped to a thick cream, and 
whites to a froth that will stand alone, the texture of 
cake will be coarse, and if the loaf be not heavy or 
streaked, there will be a crude flavor about it that will 
betray the fault at once to the initiated. The same is 
emphatically true with regard to mufiins, wafiles, and 
griddle-cakes. Mr. Greeley said, and aptly, of two 
publishers of note: ‘One will make a louder rattle 
with a hundred dollars than the other can with a 
thousand.” I have often recalled the remark in con- 
trasting the tender, puffy products of: one housewife’s 
skill with the dense, clammy cakes and crumpets of 
another, who used double the quantity of eggs and 
butter, and cream instead of milk. 

“1 think,” observed a friend, at whose house I was 
visiting, “there must be a mistake about the muffin 
receipt you gave me the other day. It calls for three 
eggs. My cook insists that five are none too many, 
yet her’s, when made, do not look or taste like those I 
ate at your table.” 





WHAT I KNOW ABOUT EGG-BEATERS. 197 


In reply I craved permission to see the batter 
mixed by the eritical cook. Entering the kitchen in 
company with the mistress, we found Chloe in the act 
of breaking the five egys directly into the flour, milk, 
etc., already mixed in a large bowl. Half a dozen 
strokes of the wooden spoon she held would have com- 
pleted the manufacture of the raw material. Eggs 
are inveterate tell-tales, and they had given no uncer- 
tain warning in this case, had the mistress been on the 
alert. 

Some eggs cannot be frothed. The colored “mam. 
mys” used to tell me that they were “ bewitched,” 
when, with every sweep of the wisp they were de- 
pressed and dwindled before my wondering eyes. I 
have learned since that, whether this non-inflative state 
be the result of undue warmth of the dish into which 
_ the eggs are broken, or staleness of the ovates them- 
selves, it is a hopeless task to attempt rehabilitation. 
Lheir demoralization is complete and fatal. The wise 
housewife will give up her cake or dessert for that. 
day, unless she is willing to throw the obdurate eggs 
away, cleanse the bowl, wiping it perfectly dry, and 
let it cool before attacking another batch. 

Nor will whites froth to stiffness if a single drop of 
the yolk has found its way into them. Regardless, as 
a leader of the cod-fish aristocracy, of the claims of 
early associations upon memory and respect, they sul- 
lenly assert the impossibility of rising in the world if 
they are to be clogged by that which lay so close to them 
before the shells were broken. All the beating of the 
patent ege-whip in impatient fingers will not suffice to 
make them see reason. The fact that there is ten-fold 


198 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


more nourishment and sweetness in one yolk than in a 
pint of their snowy nothingness ; that it is, in truth, 
the life, without which an egg would be a nullity, has no 
more effect in changing their exclusive notions than 
have volumes of argument proving the solidity and vi- 
tality of the middle classes upon the gaseous brains of 
the don ton. Humor their folly—for whites are use- 
ful, because ornamental, if rightly handled—by care- 
fully taking out the offensive plebeian speck. 

Our mothers whipped up yolks with a spoon, and 
the whites with a broad-bladed knife, or clean 
switches, peeled and dried. Miss Leslie’s “ Complete 
Cookery” will tell you all about it. (And, by the 
way, if you doubt that fashions change in cookery as 
in all else, 1 commend to your perusal this ancient 
manual.) ‘Then came a rush of patent egg-beaters, and 
a rush of purchasers as well, whose aching wrists and 
shoulders pleaded for relief from long hours of inces- 
sant “beating,” “whipping,” and “frothing.” There 
were wire spoons with wooden handles that broke off, 
and tin handles that turned the perspiring hand black ; 
wire whirligigs that ran up and down upon a central 
shaft and spattered the eggs over the face and bust of 
the operator; cylindrical tin vessels with whirligigs 
fastened in the centre, almost as good fun for the chil- 
dren as a monkey on a stick, but which bound the 
housewife to place and circumstance, since her eggs, 
many or few, yolks and whites, must all be churned in 
that vessel—not an easy one to keep clean, on account 
of the fixture withinit. There was altogether too much 
machinery for the end to be accomplished, and the 
white of a single egg was so hard to find in the bottom 





WHAT I KNOW ABOUT EGG-BEATERS. 199 


of a quart pail! After a few trials, the cook tossed 
the “bothering thing” into a dark corner of the closet, 
and improvised a better beater out of two silver forks, 
held dexterously together. Then, our enterprising 
“general furnishing” merchant overwhelmed us with 
a double compound back (and forward) action ma- 
chine that was “ warranted to whip up a stiff méringue 
in a minute and a half.” 

“1 will not quite endorse that, ladies,” said the most 
important tradesman jn a community of housekeepers 
and housekept. “ But I will stake my reputation upon 
its doing this in two minutes.” 

~ We all bought the prize. It looked cumbrous, and 
it was expensive, but time is money, and we remem- 
bered that a large snow-custard must be beaten ninety 
minutes with an ordinary egg-whip, and cake-frosting, 
thirty. We paid, each of us, our dollar and a half, and 
carried home the time-and-muscle-saver in a box of its 
own, so big that we chose back streets in preference to 
_ fashionable promenades, on our return. Trembling 
with exultation, we rushed into the kitchen to display 
the treasure. 

“Yes,mem! What might it be, mem?” 

“Why, Katey! an ege-beater! and the greatest con- 
venience ever manufactured !” 

“ Ah! and what a silly was meself, mem, to be 
thinking it was a coffee-mill, when I saw you 
a-screwin’ it on to the table !” 

Wescrewed it “on to the table,” at a corner, for there 
was not room for it to revolve at sides and ends. Katey 
held a bowl with eges in it at just the right elevation 
below; and by turning a crank we moved a many- 


200 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


cogged wheel which fitted into another wheel, which 
turned a whirligig at the bottom. Katey held the 
bowl steadily; we worked very fast at the windlass- 
handle, and in eight minutes the méringue was ready. 

“ Well done!” cried housewives, one and all. “ Great 
is the Grand duplex back (and forward) action Inyen- 
tion,” for the amelioration of weary-wristed woman- 
kind! To be sure, it takes two people to work it, un- 
less one can hold the bow] firmly between the knees in 
just the right place, but it is undeniably a wonderful 
improvement.” 

I, with the rest, cried, “ wonderful!” even when the 
bow] tipped over on the kitchen-floor, with the yolks of 
ten eggs in it; when I broke the screw by giving it one 
turn too many, and was blandly assured by the artiticer 
in metals, to whom I took it for repairs, that “them 
cast-iron articles can’t never be mended, ma’am, with- 
out it is by buying of a new one;” even when the 
cogs of the wheels became rheumatic, and hitched 
groaningly at every round. But when one day, in full 
flight through a seething heap of icing, the steel strips 
of the triple whirligig that did the whipping, suddenly 
caught, the one upon the other, and came to a dead lock 5 
when, as I would have released them by an energetic 
revolution of the wheel, they tore one another out by 
the roots,—I arose in deadly calm ; undid the serew, set 
‘ the bowl on the table, straightened my cramped spine, 
and sent to the nearest tin-shop for a shilling whisk. 

Four years ago, without prevision that one of the 
blessings of my life was coming upon me, I paid a visit 
to my “house-furnisher.” He had a new egg-beater 
for sale. 


WHAT I KNOW ABOUT EGG-BEATERS. 201 


“Vanitas vanitatum /” said I, theatrically waving 
it from me, “I am cured!” 

“ It comes well recommended,” remarked he, quietly. 

“ But, as you say, so many of these things are hum- 
bugs! Will you oblige me by accepting this, giving it 
a fair trial, and letting me know just what it is? I will 
send it up with the rest of your articles.” 

For three weeks —I blush to write it — THE 
DOVER hung untouched in my kitchen-closet, and I 
did daily penance for my sin of omission with the 
shilling whisk. At last I broke the latter, and with a 
slighting observation to the effect that “it might be 
better than none,” I took down my gift. 

I beg you to believe that I am not in league with the 
patentee of my favorite. I do not know whether 
“ Dover” stands for his name, that of the manufacturing 
company, or the place in which it was made. “ Dover 
Egeg-beater, Patented 1870,” is stamped upon the cir- 


cumference of the iron wheel. I know nothing more 


of its antecedents. But if I could not get another I 
would not sell mine for fifty dollars—nor a hundred. 
Kge-whipping ceased to be a bugbear to me from the 
day of which I speak. Light, portable, rapid, easy, and 
comparatively noiseless, my pet implement works like 
a benevolent browine. With it I turn out a méringue 
in five minutes without staying my song or talk; make 
the formidable “ snow-custard”’ in less than half an 
hour, with no after tremulousness of nerve or tendon. 
In its operation it is impartial, yolks thickening 
smoothly under it as easily as whites heighten into a 
compact snow-drift, that can be cut into blocks with a 
knife. Winter and summer, it has served me with in- 


202 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


variable fidelity, and it is to all appearance, stanch as 
when it first passed into my reluctant hands. I hope 
the gentlemanly and benevolent donor will sell one 
thousand per annum for the remainder of his natural 
existence, and if length of days be a boon to be coveted, 
that the unknown patentee will live as many years as 
he has saved hours of labor to American housewives 
and cooks. | 


ee ee ee ee 


WHIPPED CREAM. 


Tris enfers so largely into the composition of many 
of our most elegant desserts, that the mode of preparing 
it deserves more than a passing mention. The im- 
pression in which I confess that I shared, for a long 
time, that a “ whip ” was a tedious, and sometimes well- 
nigh impossible performance, will soon be done away 
with if one becomes the possessor of a really good syl- 
labub charm. That which I have used with great sat- 
isfaction for a couple of years is a very simple affair— 
a tin cylinder with a perforated bottom, and within it 
a dasher, similar to that of an ordinary churn, that 
plays through a hole in the top. It is best to churn 
the cream in a jar or pail, there being in these less 
waste from splashing. The churn is held about a 
quarter of an inch from the bottom, that the cream 
may pass freely below it. As the stiffened froth rises 
to the top of the cream, it should be removed to a wire 
sieve set overadish. If you have no sieve, lay a piece 
of coarse lace or tarletane within a cullender, and put 
the “ whip,” a few spoonfuls at a time, upon it. The 
cream that drips into the dish below should be re- 
turned to the pail and churned over. I regret that the 
name of the patentee appears nowhere upon the modest 
but excellent little machine that has supplied me with 
so many trifles and Charlotte Russes. 


204 . BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TRA, 


The grand desideratum in making a “ whip,” is to 
have veal cream. It should also be perfectly swect. 
The confectioner from whom I always procure mine 
advised me once to put the merest pinch of soda in the 
cream in warm weather, before beating it, a hint that 
has proved very useful to me. With this precaution, 
unless the cream be really on the verge of souring, 
you will never churn your “ whip ” to butter, of which 
Jame and lamentable conclusion I had experience sey- 
eral times before I received the friendly suggestion. 

Get good cream, then. It is better worth your 
while to pay half a dollar a quart for it than half the 
sum for the thinner, poorer liquid sold under the same 
name at the milk-stores. In the country, of course, the 
true article should be abundant, and in town, you can 
generally purchase small quantities at the confection- 
ers. A pint well worked will yield enough “ whip” 
for the dessert of a small family. It should be kept in 
a cold piace until needed, and not kept long any- 
where. 

Whipped cream is a delightful addition to coffee. 
John will relish his after-dinner cup much better if 
you will mantle it with this snowy richness. Remem- 
ber this when preparing your syllabub or trifle, and set 
aside a few spoonfuls before seasoning it. 

Don’t be afraid of undertaking “fancy dishes.” 
Sally forth bravely into the region of delicate and dif- 
ficult dainties, when you are considering family bills of 
fare, and you will not be dismayed when called to get 
up a handsome “ company ” entertainment. “ Grand- 
mother’s way ” may suit Mesdames Dull and Bigott, but 
you, being accustomed to use your reasoning powers, 


WHIPPED CREAM. 205 


should remember that our estimable maternal progen- 
itors knew as little of locomotives and magnetic tele- 
graphs as of canned fruits and gelatine. 

And, entre nous, | for one, and my John for two, are 
getting so tired of the inevitable pie! He read aloud 
to me the other day, with great gusto, a clever editorial 
from the Zrzbwne, showing with much ingenuity and 
force, that the weakness for pie was a national vice. 
I wish I had room here to reprint it. Whenever I 
have been compelled since to eat a triangle of “ family 
pie-crust,” my usually excellent digestion has played 
me false. 

“ Pie and soda-water! That is a woman’s idea of a 
comfortable luncheon on a hot day in the city,” said a 
gentleman tome. “ At a bit of rare, tender steak, and 
a mealy potato they would turn up their fastidious 
noses. Such gross food is only fit for a man.” 

The school-girl, rising from a barely-tasted breakfast 
during which she has been saying over to herself the 
chronological table, or French verb, learned the, night 
before,—“ doesn’t care to take any luncheon with her 
to-day. Certainly,no bread-and-butter—and sandwiches 
are hateful / If you insist, mamma, just give mea piece 
of pie—mince-pie, if you have it, with a slice of fruit- 
cake and a little cheese. I may feel hungry enough at 
noon to nibble at them.” 

Papa, running in at eleven o’clock, to announce that 
he has had a business telegram which obliges him to 
take the next train to ean, or Chicago, “ has not time 
to think of food, unless you can give me a bit of pie to 
eat while you are packing my valise.” He jumps from 
the cars at five p.m. to snatch another “ bit of pie” from 


206 BREADFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


a station-restaurant, and swallows still a third, at mid- 
night, bought from an itinerant vender of such comes- 
tibles, who swings himself on board when the “through 
Express ” halts for wood and water. Lf his sick head- 
ache is not overpowering, he is adequate to the con- 
sumption of still a fourth leathery triangle when an- 
other stop is made at six A.M. 

Pie is the prece de résistance in rural desserts, at 
luncheon and at tea, and the mighty army mustered to 
meet the attacks of pic-nics and water-parties in the 
course of the year is enough to drive a dyspeptic to 
suicide, when he reads the sum total of the rough com- 
putation. 

“T always calculate to bake a dozen of a Saturday,” 
says the farmer’s helpmate, resigned to cheerfulness in 
the narrative. “In haying and harvesting I make as 
many as thirty and forty every week. Nothing pleases 
our folks so much when they come in hot and tired, as 
a bit of pie—it don’t make much difference what kind 
—apple, berry, squash, or damson—so long as it is 
pie!” ! 

This is not exaggeration, and the same mania for the 
destructive sweet is as prevalent among the working- 
classes of the city. It is useless to preach to artisans 
and laborers of the indigestible qualities of such pastry 
as is made by their wives at home, and bought at cheap 
bakeries ; to represent that baked apples, and in the sea- 
son, ripe, fresh fruits of all kinds are more nutritious, 
and even cheaper, when the prices of flour, sugar, and 
“shortening” are reckoned up, to say nothing of the 
time spent in rolling out, basting and baking the 
tough-skinned, and often sour-hearted favorites. 











WHIPPED CREAM. 207 


Jellies are scorned as “having no -substance into 
them ;” blanuc-mange is emphatically “ flummery,” and 
whipped cream I have heard described scornfully as 
“sweetened nothing.” 

Do not understand my strictures upon pie-olatry to 
mean indiscriminate condemnation of pastry. A really 
fine mince-pie is a toothsome delicacy, and the like 
quality of pumpkin-pie a luscious treat. Christmas 
would hardly be Christmas without the one, and I[ 
would have the other grace every Thanksgiving feast 
until the end of time. But surely there is an “ out of 
season,’ as well as “ in.” 

“ Your Toxes and your Chickses may draw out my 
two front double teeth, Mrs. Richards,” said Susan 
Nipper, “ but that’s no reason why I need offer ’em the 
whole set ! ” : 

And when I recall the square inches of hard and 
slack-baked dyspepsia I have masticated—and_swal- 
lowed—at the bidding of civility, and a natural soft- 
heartedness that would not let me grieve or shame hos- 
_ pitable entertainers, I can say it almost as snappishly as 
she. 

Give John, then, and above all, the children, a res- 
pite from the traditional, conventional and national 
pie, and an opportunity to compare its solid merits with. 
the graces of more fanciful desserts. I can safely 
promise that the health of the family will not suffer 
from the change. 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 


JELLY ORANGES. fe 


12 fine deep-colored oranges. 

1 package Coxe’s gelatine, dissolved in one cup cold 
water. 

3 cups white sugar. 

Juice of the oranges, and grated rind of three. 

2 cups boiling water. 

+ teaspoonful cinnamon. 

Soak the gelatine three hours in the cup of cold 
water. Out from the top of each orange a round 
piece, leaving a hole just large enough to admit the 
bowl of a small spoon, or the handle of a larger. The 
smaller the orifice, the better your dish will look. 
Clean out every bit of the pulp very carefully, so as 
not to tear the edges of the hole. Scrape the inner 
skin from the sides with your fore-finger, and when the 
oranges are emptied lay them in cold water, while you 
make the jelly. Strain the juice and grated peel 
through coarse, thin muslin over the sugar, squeezing 
yather hard to get the coloring matter. Stir this until 
it is a thick syrup, and add the spice. Pour the boiling 
water upon the soaked gelatine; stir over the fire un- 
til well dissolved ; add the juice and sugar, stir all to- 
gether, and strain through a flannel bag into a pitcher, 
not shaking or squeezing it, lest it should be cloudy. 
Wipe off the outside of the oranges, set them close to- 





FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 209 


gether in a dish, the open ends uppermost, and fill very 
full with the warm jelly, as it will shrink in cooling. 
Set away in a cold place where there is no dust. Next 
day, cut each-in half with a sharp penknife, taking 
care to sever the skin all around before cutting into 
the jelly. If neatly divided, the rich amber jelly will 
be a fair counterfeit of the orange pulp. Pile in a 
glass dish, with green leaves around, as you would the 
real fruit. 

This is a beautiful and delicious dish, and easily 
made. 


GLACE ORANGES. 


Prepare precisely as in the preceding receipt, and 
after cutting the oranges in two, set them where they 
will freeze. In winter, a few hours out-of-doors will 
accomplish this. In summer pile them carefully with- 
in a freezer, and surround with ice and rock salt for 
six hours; draining off the water, and replenishing with 
ice and salt twice during the time. 

These are very refreshing in hot weather. 


Risson JELLY AND CREAM. nf 


1 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked in 2 cups of cold 
water. 

2 cups white sugar. 

1 pint boiling water. 

Juice and half the grated rind of 1 lemon. 

1 cup pale wine. 

4 teaspoonful cinnamon. 

Icnough prepared cochineal or bright cranberry, or 
other fruit syrup to color half the jelly. 


210 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


1 pint rich sweet cream whipped stiff with two table 
spoonfuls powdered sugar, and a little vanilla. 

Soak the jelly four hours. Add to it the sugar aid 
seasoning, including the lemon; pour in the boiling 
water, and stir antil entirely dissolved. Strain through 
a flannel bag, after adding the wine. Do not touch it 
while it is dripping. Divide the jelly, and color half 
of it pink, as above directed. Wet a mould, with a 
cylinder through the centre, in cold water, and put in 
the jelly, yellow and pink, in alternate layers, letting 
each get pretty firm before putting in the next, until 
all is used up. When you are ready to use it, wrap a 
hot wet cloth about the mould for a moment, and in- 
vert upon a dish. Have the cream whipped before 
you do this, and fill the open place in the middle with 
it, heaping it up well. 

You can vary the coloring by making white and 
yellow blanc-mange out of one-quarter of the gelatine 
after it is soaked. Instead of water, pour a large cup 
of boiling milk over this. When dissolved, sweeten and 
beat into half of it the yolk of an egg. Heat over the 
fire in a vessel of boiling water for five minutes to cook 
the ege, stirring all the time. A stripe of the white or 
yellow blanc-mange sets off the wider “ribbons” of 
pink and amber very tastefully. Or you may make 
the base of chocolate blanc-mange, by stirring a great 
spoonful of grated sweet chocolate into the gelatine and 
boiling milk. 


Easter Hees. ( Very pretty.) fa 


1 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked four hours in one 
pint cold water. 





FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 214 


2 heaping cups sugar. 

3 large cups boiling milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls grated chocolate—sweet, vanilla- 
flavored, if you can get it. 

2 eggs, the yolks only. 

A little prepared cochineal, or bright-red syrup. 

Empty shells of 12 eggs, from which the contents 
have been drained through a hole in the small end. 

Essence bitter-almond, grated lemon-peel, and rose- 
water for flavoring. 

Put sugar and soaked gelatine into a bowl, and pour 
the boiling milk over them. Set over the fire in a 
farina-kettle, and stir until dissolved. Strain and di- 
vide into four parts. Leave one white; stir into an- 
other the beaten yolks; into a third the chocolate; into 
the fourth the pink or scarlet coloring. Season the 
chocolate with vanilla; the yellow with lemon; the 
white with rose-water, the red with bitter-almond. 
Heat the yellow over the fire long enough to cook the 
egg. Rinse out your egg-shells with cold water, and 
fill with the various mixtures, three shells of each. 
Set upright in a pan of meal or flour to keep them 
steady, and leave until next day. Then fill a glass 
bowl more than three-quarters full, with nice wine- 
jelly, broken into sparkling fragmeuts. Break away 
the egg-shells, bit by bit, from the blanc-mange. If the 
insides of the shells have been properly rinsed and left 
wet, there will be no trouble about this. Pile the vari- 
colored “eggs” upon the bed of jelly, lay shred pre- 
served orange-peel, or very finely shred candied citron 
about them, and surprise the children with them as an 
Easter-day dessert. 


212 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


It is well to make this the day on which you bake 
cake, as the contents of the egg-shells will not then be 
wasted. By emptying them carefully, you can keep 
the whites and yolks separate. 

This dish, which I invented to please my own little 
ones on the blessed Easter-day, is always welcomed by 
them with such delight, that I cannot refrain from 
recommending its manufacture to other mothers. It 
is by no means difficult or expensive. If you can get 
green spinach, you can have yet another color by using 
the juice. 


Turrer CREAM. ofa 


1 pint sweet, rich cream. 

1 quart milk. 

1 package Coxe’s gelatine. 

1 heaping cup white sugar. 

3 eggs, beaten light—whites and yolks separately. 

% pound crystallized fruit—cherries and peaches, or 
apricots. : 

Vanilla flavoring. 

Juice of one lemon. 

Soak the gelatine in a cup of the milk four hours, 
Scald the remainder of the milk, add the sugars when 
this is dissolved, the soaked gelatine. Stir over zhe fire 
until almost boiling hot; strain and divide into two 
equal portions. Return one to the fire, and heat quickly. 
When it nears the boiling-point, stir in the beaten 
yolks. Let all cook together two minutes, and turn out 
into a bowl to cool. While it cools, churn the cream 
very stiff, and beat the whites of the eggs until they 
will stand alone. Divide the latter into two heaps. 








FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 213 


As the yellow gelatine begins to “form,” whip one- 
half of the whites into it, a little at a time. ‘To the 
white gelatine add the rest of the whites in the same 
manner, alternately with the whipped cream. Season 
the yellow with vanilla, the white with the lemon-juice 
beaten in at the last. Wet the inside of a tall, fluted 
mould with water, and arrange in the bottom, close to 
the outside of the mould, a row of crystallized cherries. 
Then put in a layer of the white mixture ; on this the 
apricots or peaches cut into strips; a layer of the yel- 
low, another border of cherries, and so on, until your 
materials are used up. When firm, which will be in a 
few hours, even in summer, if set on the ice, wrap a 
cloth wrung out in hot water about the mould, and in- 
vert upon a flat dish. 

Eat with sweet cream, or, if you like, with brandied 
fruit. 

This is a beautifnl dessert, and a handsome centre- 
piece for a supper-table. It is also a safe one, even in 
_ the hands of a novice, if these directions be followed 

exactly. Bitter-almond may be substituted for the 
lemon. | 


Napres Sponge. x 


6 egos. Use the yolks for custard. 

1 quart of milk. 

2 large cups sugar, and same quantity boiling water. 

1 package gelatine soaked in 2 cups cold water. 

Juice of a lemon and half the grated rind. 

1 stale sponge-cake cut into smooth slices of uniform 
size. | 

2 glasses sherry. 


214 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Dissolve the soaked gelatine in the hot water. Add 
a cup of sugar and the lemon, and stir until the mix- 
ture is clear. Set aside in a shallow pan to cool. 
Meanwhile, make a custard of the milk, the yolks, and 
the other cup of sugar. Stir until it begins to thicken, 
when turn into a pitcher or pail, and put away until 
the “‘sponge” is ready for table. Whip the whites 
very stiff, and beat into them, a few spoonfuls at a time, 
the cooled gelatine. Spread the slices of cake, cut of 
a shape and size that will fit your mould, upon a flat 
dish, and wet them with the sherry. Rinse out a pud- 
ding or jelly mould with cold water, put a thick layer 
of the “ sponge ” in the bottom, pressing and smoothing 
it down, then one of cake, fitted in neatly; another of 
the sponge, proceeding in this order until all is used. 
The upper layer—the base when the sponge is turned 
out should be of cake. 

Serve in a glass dish with some of the custard 
poured about the base, and send around more in a 
sauce-tureen or silver cream-pitcher. 

Season the custard with vanilla. 


An Atmonp CHARLOTTE. of 


1 quart milk. 

1 pint rich cream—whipped stiff. 

Whites of 3 eggs. 

1 great cup white sugar—powdered. 

1 pound sweet almonds, blanched and cold. 

Rose-water and essence of bitter almond for flavor- 
ing. 

1 stale sponge-cake sliced. 

Icing for top of cake. 





FANOY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 915 


1 package gelatine soaked in a cupful of the milk. 
Heat the rest of the milk to boiling; put in the sugar 
and soaked gelatine. Heat again before adding the 
almond paste. This should be ready, before you be- 
gin the Charlotte. Blanch the almonds by putting 
them into boeing water, skinning them, and letting 
them get cold and crisp. Pound in a mortar, drop- 
ping in rose-water, now and then, to prevent oiling. 
Stir this paste well into the hot milk; let it simmer 
with it two or three minutes; then strain through 
coarse muslin, squeezing hard to get out the strength. 
Flavor and set by until cold and a little stiff around 
the edges. Beat the whites of the eggs stiff and add 
the gelatine gradually—beating steadily—alternately 
with the whipped cream. Butter your mould, and 
line with slices of sponge-cake fitted closely together. 
Fill with the mixture, pressing it in firmly and evenly. 
In eight or ten hours, turn it out upon a dish, and ice 
as you would a cake, but on the top only. While the 
frosting is soft, ornament with fancy candies, laid on 
in any shape you may fancy. 


Or, 


You may simplify matters by reserving one large 
piece of cake—a slice cut the full width of the loaf; 
trimming it to fit the bottom of the mould, and only 
lining the sides of the latter. The Charlotte will turn 
out as well without the top (or bottom), and you can 
have it frosted and ornamented by the time you empty 
the mould. Lay it carefully on the top of the gela- 
tine. ; 





216 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


Narcissus Buanc-MANGE. 


1 quart milk. 

Less than a pint rich cream, whipped with a little 
powdered sugar. 

1 package Cooper’s gelatine, soaked in 2 cups of cold 
water. 

Yolks of 4 eggs, beaten light. 

2 cups white sugar. 

Vanilla and rose-water for flavoring. 

Heat the milk scalding hot, stir in the gelatine and 
sugar. When all are dissolved, beat in the yolks, and 
heat until they are cooked. Two minutes, after the 
custard becomes scalding hot, should suffice. Turn 
out into a broad dish to cool. When it stiffens around 
the edges, transfer it, a few spoonfuls at a time, to a 
bowl, and whip vigorously with your egg-beater. 
Flavor with rose-water. It should be like a yellow 
sponge before you put it into the mould. ‘This should 
be an open one, 2.¢., with a cylinder in the centre. Rinse 
with cold water, and fill with the blanc-mange. It is 
best made the day before it is to be used. After turning 
it out upon a dish, fill the hollowed centre with whipped 
cream, flavored with vanilla and heaped up as high as 
it willstand. Pile more whipped cream about the base. 

This dessert is named for the pretty yellow and 
white flower which came, with the earliest days of 
Spring, to the old-fashioned gardens. 


Tresy TRIFLE. of 


1 quart milk. 
5 eggs, whites and yolks beaten separately. 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. O17 


1 stale sponge-cake. 

% pound macaroons. 

1 cup sugar. 7 

Vanilla, or bitter-almond for flavoring. 

1 cup sherry wine, and 1 cup jelly or jam. 

Make a custard of the milk, sugar and yolks, adding 
the latter when the milk almost boils, and stirring con- 
stantly until it begins to thicken. Flavor when cold. 
Slice your cake, and line the bottom of a glass dish 
with it. Wet with the wine, and cover with jam or 
jelly. A layer of macaroons over this must also be 
wet with sherry. Another layer of cake, moistened 
with wine and spread with jam; more macaroons, 
and so on, until the dish is three-quarters full. Pour 
the cold custard over all; beat the whites of the eggs 
stiff with a few spoonfuls of bright jelly, and heap 
smoothly on top. Drop a bit of red jelly here and 
there upon it. 


STRAWBERRY TRIFLE. f« 


This is made substantially as above—but the maca- 
roons and wine are omitted, and the sponge-cake wet 
with sweet cream. Layers of ripe strawberries (cut 
in two, if the fruit is large), sprinkled with powdered 
sugar, are substituted for the jam; strawberry-juice, 
well sweetened, is whipped into the meringue on top, 
and this ornamented with ripe, scarlet berries. 

This is very nice. 


Crime pu Tut. (Good) 
1 pint rich cream, whipped light. 
% package gelatine, soaked in 1 cup of milk. 
= aces A 


218 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 large cup of strong mixed tea—the best quality. 

1 cup white sugar. 

Whites of 2 eggs. 

Dissolve the soaked gelatine and sugar in the boiling 
tea, when you have strained the latter through fine 
muslin, and let it cool. Whip the cream and the 
whites of the eggs in separate vessels. When the gel- 
atine is perfectly cold, beat it by degrees into the 
whites until it is a pretty firm froth. Then whip in 
the cream. Rinse a mould: in cold water, fill it with 
the mixture, and set in a very cold place, or on ice, for 
eight or ten hours. Send around a pitcher of sweet 
cream with it. 


Crime pu OArs. 


Is made precisely as is the créme du thé, but substi- 
tuting a large cup of strong black coffee for the tea. 
It is even more popular than the tea-cream. 

It is a good plan to make both at the same time, one 
package of gelatine serving for all, and give your 
guests their choice of tea or coffee. If set to form in 
custard-cups and turned out upon a flat dish in alter- 
nate rows, they make a handsome show. The darker 
color of the coffee will distinguish it from the tea. 

A small pitcher of sweet cream should accompany 
them. 

Crime pu CHocoLar. pf« 


1 quart of milk. 

1 pint of cream, whipped light. 

3 package of gelatine, soaked in 1 cup of the milk. 
2 egos, yolks and whites beaten separately. 

1 cup of sugar—powdered. 


a fan Lee ee Po 


a 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 219 


4 table-spoonfuls grated chocolate. 

Vanilla to taste. 

Seald the milk, and stir into it while still in the 
saucepan, the soaked gelatine and sugar. Heat up 
once, and when the gelatine is quite dissolved, strain. 
The chocolate should be wet up with cold water be- 
fore it is put into the hot milk. Stir up thoroughly, 
return to the saucepan, and when smoking hot, add it 
gradually to the beaten yolks. Set back on the fire 
and boil very gently five minutes—not more, or the 
egos may curdle. Turn into a broad pan to cool. 
Whip, when it begins to coagulate, gradually and 
thoroughly with the beaten whites, flavoring with va- 
nilla. Lastly, beat in the whipped cream. 

You can add this to your coffee and tea creams, and 
complete the assortment. Mould as you do them, but 
serve with brandied fruit, instead of cream. Most 
people are very fond of it. 


Cuocotate Branc-Manar. -f< 


1 quart of milk. 

4 package gelatine, dissolved in 1 cup cold water. 

1 cup sugar. 

8 great spoonfuls grated chocolate. 

Vanilla to taste. | 

Heat the milk; stir in sugar and soaked gelatine. 
Strain ; add chocolate; boil ten minutes, stirring all 
the time. When nearly cold, beat for five minutes— 
hard with your “ Dover” egg-beater, or until it begins 
to stiffen. Flavor; whip up once, and put into a wet 
mould. It will be firm in six or eight hours. 


220 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


CrocoLATte Bianc-MANGE AND OREAM. 


Make the blanc-mange as directed in last receipt. 
Set it to form in a mould with a cylinder in centre, 
You can improvise one by stitching together a roll of 
stiff paper just the height of the pail or bowl in which 
you propose to mould your blanc-mange, and holding 
it firmly in the middle of this while you pour the mix- 
ture around it. The paper should be well buttered. 
Lay a book or other light weight on the cylinder to 
keep it erect. When the blanc-mange is turned out, 
slip out the paper, and fill the cavity with whipped 
cream, heaping some about the base. Specks of 
bright jelly enliven this dish if Bir: tastefully 
upon the cream. 


CuocoLtatE Custarps (baked). 


1 quart of good milk. 

6 ener and whites separated. 

1 cup sugar. 

4 great spoonfuls grated chocolate. 

Vanilla flavoring. 

Scald the milk; stir in the chocolate and simmer 
two minutes, to dissolve, and incorporate it well with 
the milk. Beat up the yolks with the sugar and 
put into the hot mixture. Stir for one minute before 
seasoning and pouring into the cups, which should be 
set ready in a pan of boiling water. They should 
be half submerged, that the water may not bubble 
over the tops. Cook slowly about twenty minutes, 
or until the custards are firm. When cold, whip the 
whites of the eggs to a méringue with a yery little 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. Q21 


powdered sugar—(most mérengues are too sweet) and 
pile some upon the top of cach cup. Puta piece of 
red jelly on the méringue. 


CuHocoLaTe Custarps (doded). 


1 quart of milk. 

6 egos—whites and yolks separately beaten. 

1 cup of sugar. 

4 large spoonfuls grated chocolate. 

Vanilla to taste—a teaspoonful to the pint is a good 
rule. 

Scald the milk; stir in sugar and chocolate. Boil 
gently five minutes, and add the yolks. Cook five min- 
utes more, or until it begins to thicken up well, stir- 
ring all the time. When nearly cold beat in the flavor- 
ing, and whisk all briskly for a minute before pouring 
into the custard cups. Whip up the whites with a 
little powdered sugar, or what is better, half a cup of 
currant or cranberry jelly, and heap upon the custards. 


Rocxwork. ps 


1 quart of milk. 

6 eggs. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

Vanilla flavoring. 

Sweeten the milk slightly and set it over the fire in 
a rather wide-mouthed saucepan. Beat the whites of 
the eggs toa very stiff froth with a table-spoonful or 
so of the sugar. When the milk boils, put in the 
froth, a table-spoonful at a time, turning each little 
heap as it is cooked on the lower side. Have only a 
few spoonfuls in at once, or they will run together. 


222 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


Take out the cooked froth carefully with a skimmer 
and lay on asieve. When all are done, set in a cool 
place, while you make a custard of the yolks beaten up 
with the sugar and the boiling milk. Stir until it be- 
gins to thicken, and pour out to cool. Flavor when 
cold; fill a glass bowl with the custard and pile the 
“rocks ” on the surface. 

A pretty variation of floating island. Serve with 
sponge-cake. | 


An AmpBusHED TRIFLE. >f 


A round stale sponge-cake. 

1 pint milk. 

1 teaspoonful corn-starch. 

1 cup sweet jelly orjam. Crab-apple jelly is very nice. 

3 egos beaten light. 

A pinch of salt. 

Vanilla, lemon, or bitter almond flavoring. 

2 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

Cut the top from the cake in one piece and lay it 
aside. Scoop out the inside of the cake, leaving side- 
walls and a bottom about an inch thick. Coat these 
well with the jelly. Scald the milk; beat the eggs 
with the sugar, and stir into this when it is almost boil- 
ing. Crumb the cake you have scooped out very 
finely, and beat into the hot custard. Return to the 
fire and cook, stirring all the while until thick and 
smooth, when add the corn-starch, previously wet with 
cold milk. Cook a minute longer and take from the 
fire. When nearly cold, flavor and fill the cake with 
it. Cover the inside of the lid you have laid aside 
with jelly, fit neatly into its place; brush the whole 





FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 993 


cake with white of egg, sift powderea sugar thickly 
over it, and set in a cool, dry place until wanted. 
A simple, delightful dessert. | 


ORANGE TRIFLE. >} 


1 pint cream, whipped stiff. 

3 egoes——yolks only. 

1 cup of powdered sugar. 

4 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked in a cup of cold 
water. 

Juice of 2 sweet oranges. 

Grated rind of 1 orange. 

1 cup boiling water. 

Stir the soaked gelatine in the boiling water. Mix 
the juice, rind and sugar together, and pour the hot 
liquid over them. Should the gelatine not dissolve 
readily, set all over the fire and stir until clear. Strain, 
and stir in the beaten yolks. Heat quickly within a 
vessel of boiling water, stirring constantly lest the 
yolks should curdle. If they shonld, strain again 
through coarse flannel. Set aside until perfectly cold 
and slightly stiff, when whip in the frothed cream. 
Wet a mould, fill, and set it on ice. 


APPLE TRIFLE. 

1 dozen tender pippins of fine flavor. 

1 large cup of sugar, for custard—one—smaller—for 
apples. 

1 scant quart rich milk. 

4 egos. 

Juice and half the grated peel of 1 lemon. 

1 pint of cream, whipped up with a little powdered 
sugar. 


224 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. — 


Slice the apples; put them in an earthenware or 
glass jar; cover lightly and set in a kettle of warm 
water. Bring to a boil, and cook gently until the 
apples are tender and clear. Beat to a pulp, sweeten 
with the smaller cup of sugar; add lemon-juice and 
rind, and put them into a glass dish. Make a custard 
of ote sugar and eggs; boil until it thickens up 
well, and let it get perfectly cold. Cover the apple 
compote with a spoonful by spoonful. The apple 
should be cold and stiff, or it may rise to the top of 
the custard. Lastly, pile the whipped cream. over all. 


Lemon Tririz. (Delicious.) 


2 lemons—juice of both and grated rind of one. 

1 cup sherry. 

1 large cup of sugar. 

1 pint cream well sweetened and “ane stiff. 

A. little nutmeg. 

Strain the lemon-juice over the sugar and grated 
peel, and let them lie together two hours before add- 
ing the wine and nutmeg. Strain again and whip 
gradually into the frothed cream. Serve in jelly- 
glasses and send around cake with it. It should be 
eaten soon after it is made. 


QuEEN oF TRIFLES. >} 


4 lb. “lady fingers,” or square sponge-cakes. 
4 lb. macaroons. 

4 lb. sweet almonds blanched. 

4 lb. crystallized fruit, chopped fine. 

1 cup sweet jelly or jam. 

1 glass of brandy. 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 225 


1 glass of best sherry. Rose-water. 

1 pint of cream, whipped. 

1 pint of rich milk for custard. 

4 egos, whites and yolks separated. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch. 

1 small cup sugar for custard. 

A little powdered sugar for whipped cream. 

Vanilla flavoring for custard. 

Put sponge-cakes at the bottom of a large glass 
dish; wet with brandy, and cover thinly with jelly. 
Strew the minced fruits thickly upon this. Next come 
the macaroons. Wet with the wine and cover thickly 
with jelly. Set the dish in a cool place while you pre- 
pare the custard. This will give the cakes time to 
soak up the liquor. 

Scald the milk; beat the yolks and sugar together 
and make a paste of the blanched almonds by pound- 
ing them in a Wedgewood mortar (or, in a stout bowl 
with a potato beetle), adding rose-water as you go on 
to prevent oiling. Stir this paste into the hot milk, 
and, a minute later, the yolks and sugar. Cook, stir- 
ring constantly, for three minutes more, when put in 
the corn-starch, wet up with cold milk. Let all 
thicken well and smoothly ; take from the fire, beat up 
to break possible lumps, and turn out to cool. 

Whip the cream, and sweeten to taste. Whisk the 
whites of the eggs stiff and mix thoroughly with the 
whipped cream. When the custard is perfectly cold, 
cover the cakes in the glass dish with it, and heap the 
cream on top. 

There is no better trifle than this. 

bins 


bo 
is) 
for) 


BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


AprLE Snow. (Vo. 1.) > 

6 fine pippins. 

2 cups powdered sugar. 

1 lemon—juice and half the grated peel. 

1 pint of milk for custard. 

4 eggs. 

Make a good custard of the milk, one cup of sugar 
and the yolks. Bake the apples, cores, skins and all, 
in a covered dish with a little water in the bottom to 
prevent burning. The apples should be so tender that 
a straw will pierce them. Take off the skins and 
scrape out the pulp. Mix in the sugar and lemon. 
Whip the whites of the eggs light, and beat in the 
pulp by degrees until very white and firm, Put the 
custard, when cold, into the bottom of a glass bowl 
and pile the snow upon it. 


AppLe Snow. (Vo. 2.) >a 


4 lb. macaroons. 

1 cup good custard. 

4 fine pippins (raw). 

Whites of 4 eggs. 

$ cup powdered sugar. 

Put the macaroons in the bottom of a glass dish, 
and cover with the custard before you make the snow. 
Whisk the eggs and sugar to a méringue before 
paring the apples. Peel and grate each directly into 
the frothed egg and sugar, and whip in quickly before 
touching the next. The pulp will better preserve its 
color if thus coated before the air can affect it. It is 
well for one person to hold the egy-beater and work 





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’ 
; 
‘ 
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+4 er 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. : 997 


in the apple while an assistant grates it. Pile upon 
the soaked macaroons and set on ice until wanted. It 
should be eaten soon after it igs made. 


ORANGE SNow. 


4 large, sweet oranges. Juice of all and grated peel 
of one. 

Juice and half the grated peel of 1 lemon. 

1 package of gelatine, soaked in cup of cold water. 

Whites of 4 eggs, whipped stiff. 

1 cup—a large one—of powdered sugar. 

1 pint boiling water. 

Mix the juice and peel of the fruit with the soaked 
gelatine ; add the sugar; stir all up well and let them 
alone for an hour. Then pour on the boiling water, 
and stir until clear. Strain through a coarse cloth, 
pressing and wringing it hard. When quite cold, 
whip into the frothed whites gradually, until thick and 
white. Put into a wet mould for eight hours. 


Lemon Snow. >fa 


3 lemons—if large—4 if small. Grated peel of two. 

4 egos—the whites only—whipped to standing froth. 

1 package of gelatine soaked in 1 cup cold water. 

1 pint boeing water. 

1 glass sherry or white wine—a large glass. 

4 teaspoonful nutmeg. ; 

2 cups powdered sugar. 

Add to the soaked gelatine the juice of all the 
lemons, and peel of two, the sugar and spice, and let 
them stand together one hour. Then pour the boiling 
water over them. Stir until dissolved, and strain into 


228 _ BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


a wide bowl. When nearly cold, add the wine. 
When quite cold, begin to whip the mixture gradually 
into the frothed egg, and beat until thick, white and 
smooth. Weta mould in cold water and set the snow 
aside in it until firm. 

If you like, you can pour a rich custard about the 
base after dishing it. 


Ricz Snow. 


5 table-spoonfuls rice flour. 

1 quart of milk. 

4 eggs—the whites only—whipped light. 

1 large spoonful of butter. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

A pinch of cinnamon and same of nutmeg. 

Vanilla or other extract for flavoring. 

A little salt. | 

Wet up the flour with cold water and add to the 
milk when the latter is scalding hot. Boil until it be- 
gins to thicken ; put in the sugar and spice; simmer 
five minutes, stirring constantly, and turn into a bowl 
before beating in the butter. Let it get cold before 
flavoring it. Whip, a spoonful at a time, into the 
beaten eggs. Set to form in a wet mould. 

Send sweet cream around with it. 

This is delicate and wholesome fare for invalids. If 
you wish to have it especially nice, add half a pint of 
cream, whipped light and beaten in at the last. 


Summer Snow. (Hatremely fine.) 


1 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked in 1 cup cold 
water. | 


, 
tin eel 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERY. 229 


2 cups powdered sugar. 

Juice and peel of 1 lemon. 

Half a pine-apple, cut in small pieces. 

2 cups boiling water. 

1 glass best brandy. 

2 glasses best sherry or white wine. 

A little nutmeg. 

4 eggs—the whites only—whipped. | 

Mix into the soaked gelatine the sugar, lemon, pine- 
apple, and nutmeg. Let them stand together two 
hours, when you have bruised the fruit with the back 
of a silver or wooden spoon and stirred all thoroughly. 
Pour over them, at the end of that time, the boiling 
water, and stir until the gelatine is dissolved. Strain 
through coarse flannel, squeezing and wringing hard. 
When almost cold, put in the wine and brandy. 
Cover until quite cold. Whip in, by degrees, into the 
beaten whites. It ought to be whisked half an hour, 
even if you use the “ Dover.” Bury in the ice to 
_ “form,” having wet the mould with cold water. 
This is most refreshing and delicious. 


SYLLABUB. >[« 


1 quart rich cream. 

4 egos—the whites only. 

1 glass white wine. 

2 small cups powdered sugar. 

Flavor to taste. : 

Whip half the sugar into the cream—the rest with 
the eggs. Mix these and add wine and flavoring at 
the last. 


230 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Vetver Cream. rhe 


1 pint best cream whipped very stiff. 

4 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked in 1 cup cold 
water. 

8 glasses white wine. 

Juice of 1 large lemon. 

Bitter almond flavoring. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

Put sugar, lemon, soaked gelatine and wine into a 
bowl, cover eas to keep in the flavor of the wine 
and let them stand together one hour. Stir up well, 
and set the bowl (or jar), still covered, into a sauce- 
pan of boiling water for fifteen minutes, or until the 
gelatine is dissolved and the mixture clear. Strain, 
and let it cool before flavoring. Beat gradually into 
the whipped cream. Weta mould, fill and set directly 
upon the ice until wanted. 


Macaroon BAsKET. 


1 lb. macaroons—-almond or cocoanut, or “ kisses.” 

1 large cup white sugar. 

1 table-spoonful dry gum arabic. 

4 cup of water—bodlung. 

Dissolve the gum arabic in the hot water thor- 
oughly ; then stir in the sugar. Boil gently until very 
thick. Set it, while using it, in -a pan of boiling 
water to keep hot. Take a round tin pail (a fluted 
mould will not do so well), butter thickly on bottom ~ 
and sides, dip the edges only of each macaroon in the 
hot candy and lay them in close rows on the bottom 
until it is covered. Let them get perfectly dry, and 








FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. Wot 


be sure they adhere firmly to one another before you 
begin the lower row of the sides. Build up your wall, 
one row at a time, letting each harden before adding 
another. When the basket is done and firm, lift care- 
fully from the mould; make a loop-handle at each 
end with four or five macaroons, stuck together; set 
on a flat dish and heap with whipped cream. Sprinkle 
comfits over the cream, or ornament with red jelly. 

With a little care and practice any deft housewife 
ean build this basket. A mould of stef white paper, 
lightly stitched together and well buttered, has several 
advantages above one of tin. You can make it of any 
shape you like, and remove it without risk of breaking 
the basket, by clipping the threads that hold it to- 
gether. 

JELLY CUSTARDS. 


1 quart milk. 

6 egos—whites and yolks. 

1 cup sugar. 

Flavoring to taste. 

Some tea and yellow jelly—raspberry | is good for 
one, orange jelly for the other. 

Make a custard of the eggs, milk and sugar; boil 
gently until it thickens well. Flavor when cold; fill 
your custard-glasses two-thirds full and heap up with 
the two kinds of jelly—the red upon some, the yellow 
on others. . 


Appts Jewty. (LVice.) 
1 dozen well-flavored pippins. 
2 cups powdered sugar. 
Juice of 2 lemons—grated peel of one. 


232 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


4+ package Coxe’s gelatine soaked in 1 cup of cold 
water. 

Pare, core and slice the apples, throwing each piece 
into cold water as it is cut, to preserve the color. 
Pack them in a glass or stoneware jar with just cold 
water enough to cover them; put on the top, loosely, 
that the steam may escape; set in a pot of warm 
water and bring toa boil. Cook until the apples are 
broken to pieces. Have ready in a bowl, the soaked 
gelatine, sugar, lemon-juice and peel. Strain the ap- 
ple pulp scalding hot, over them ; stir until the gela- 
tine is dissolved ; strain again—this time through a 
flannel bag, without shaking or squeezing it; wet a 
mould with cold water and set in a cold place until 
firm. 

This is very nice formed in an open mould (one 
with a cylinder in the centre), and with the cavity 
filled and heaped with whipped cream or syllabub. 


Pracu JELLY. 


Is made as you would apple, and with a few peach- 
kernels broken up and boiled with the fruit. 


STRAWBERRY JELLY. >} 


1 quart strawberries. 

1 large cup white sugar. 

Juice of 1 lemon. 

% package Coxe’s gelatine soaked in 1 cup cold 
water. 

1 pint boiling water. 

Mash the strawberries to a pulp and strain them 
through coarse muslin. Mix the sugar and lemon- 





: * - * 
en OT (a. = 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. Oa5 


juice with the soaked gelatine; stir up well and pour 
over them the boiling water. Stir until clear. 
Strain through flannel bag; add the strawberry juice ; 
strain again, without shaking or pressing the bag; wet 
a mould with cylinder in centre, in cold water ; fill it 
and set in ice to form. 

Turn out upon a cold dish; fill with whipped 
cream, made quite sweet with powdered sugar, and 
served at once. 

It is very fine. 


RaAsPBERRY AND CURRANT JELLY. 


1 quart currants. 

1 quart red or Antwerp raspberries. 

2 cups white sugar. 

1 package gelatine soaked in 1 cup cold water. 

1 cup boiling water. 

Whipped cream—made very sweet—for centre. 

Crush the fruit in a stoneware jar with a wooden 
beetle, and strain out every drop of the juice that will 
come away. Stir the sugar and soaked gelatine to- 
gether; pour the boiling water over them; when 
clear, strain into the fruit-juice. Strain again through 
flannel bag; wet an “open” mould; fill with the 
jelly, and bury in ice to form. 

Turn out upon a very cold dish; fill the centre with 
the cream. 


Lemon JELLY. pfs 


6 lemons—juice of all, and grated peel of two. 

2 large cups sugar. 

1 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked in 2 cups cold 
water. 


234 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


2 glasses pale sherry or white wine. 

1 pint boiling water. 

Stir sugar, lemon-juice, peel, and soaked gelatine to- 
gether, and cover for an hour. Pour the boiling 


water over them; stir until the gelatine is quite 


melted ; strain; add the wine; strain again through 
close flannel bag, and pour into a wet mould. 


ORANGE JELLY. pha 


6 large deep-colored oranges—juice of all. 

Grated peel of one. 

2 lemons, juice of both, and peel of one. 

1 glass best brandy. 

1 package gelatine, soaked in 2 cups of water. 

1 pint boiling water. 

2 cups sugar. 

Make as you would lemon jelly. 

In each of these receipts, should the fruit yield less 
than a large coffee-cup of juice, add more water, that 
the jelly may not be tough. 


Turrt Frurm Jevty. (Very good.) vf 


1 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked in 2 cups water. 

Juice and grated peel of 1 lemon. 

1 fine orange, all the juice and half the peel. 

1 glass best brandy. 

1 glass white wine. 

8 cups boiling water. 

% lb. crystallized cherries. 

$b. crystallized apricots, peaches, ete., cut into 
shreds. 

% lb. sweet almonds, blanched by being thrown into 





=~ =... > a 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. 935 


boiling water, and skinned. ‘Throw into cold water so 
soon as blanched, until you are ready to use them. 

2 cups white sugar. 

Mix soaked gelatine, sugar, lemon and orange juice, 
and peel. Let them stand together one hour, then 
pour on boiling water. When the gelatine is melted, 
strain; add the liquor; strain again through double 
flannel, not touching the bag while it drips. When the 
jelly begins to congeal, pour some in the bottom of a 
wet, fluted mould. <A rather tall one is best. Let 
this get tolerably firm, keeping the rest of the jelly, 
meanwhile, in a pan of warm—not boiling water—lest 
it should harden before you are ready for the next 
layer. Lay a row of bright-red glacé cherries on the 
jelly, close to the ontside of the mould; within this 
ring a stratum of the other fruits neatly shred. More 
jelly, and, when it is firm enough to bear them, another 
ring of cherries, and, within this, a layer of the almonds 
cut into thin shavings. Jelly again, more fruit, and so 
on until the mould is full or your materials used up. If 
possible, have the outer ring of each fruit and almond 
layer of cherries. Set in ice to form. If frozen, the 
jelly and fruits will be all the better. I have some- 
times left mine purposely where I knew it must freeze. 

This is a beautiful centre-piece for a dessert or 
supper-table. 


Wine JELLY. ofa 


1 package sparkling gelatine, soaked in 1 large cup 
of cold water. 

2 cups white wine or pale sherry. 

1 lemon—all the juice and half the peel. 


236 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


4 teaspoonful bitter almond, or two peach-leaves. 

2 cups white sugar. 

1 pint boiling water. 

Put soaked gelatine, lemon, sugar, and flavoring ex- 
tract together, and cover for half an hour. Then pour 
on boiling water, stir and strain. After adding the 
wine, strain again through flannel bag. Wet a mould 
and set in a cold place until the next day. 


CLARET JELLY. >f« 


1 package Coxe’s gelatine, soaked in large cup 
water. 

2 cups sugar. 

2 cups fine claret. 

1 pint boiling water. 

‘1 lemon—the juice only. 

A. pinch of mace. 

Make as you would other wine jelly. 

It is most refreshing in summer. 


Nore Upon JELLIES. 


It must be borne in mind that the consistency of 
jelly depends much upon the weather. In warm or 
damp, it is sometimes difficult to make it either clear 
or firm. I have tried to guard against failure in the 
use of any of the foregoing receipts by setting down 
the mininum quantity of liquid that can be used with- 
out making the jellies too stiff. If made in clear, cold 
weather, there will be no risk in having the “large cup 
of cold water,” in which the gelatine is soaked, one- 
third larger than if the jelly were undertaken on a 


FANCY DISHES FOR DESSERT. O31 


murky spring day. A little experience will teach you 
how to guard this point. Meanwhile, be assured that 
you need not fear splashing, weak jellies where you 
hoped for firmness and brilliancy, if you follow the di- 
rections written down in this department. 


PUDDINGS OF VARIOUS KINDS. 


Rick Puppine wirs F Rott. 


1 quart of new milk, or as fresh as you can get it. 

1 cup raw rice. | 

4 eggs. 

1 great spoonful of butter. 

1 cup sugar, and same of fine bread- cranes 

4 cup suet (powdered). 

% lb. raisins, seeded and chopped. 

$ lb. currants, washed well and dried. 

+ lb. citron, minced fine. 

Soak the rice over night, or for five hours, in a 
little warm water. Boil until tender in one pint of 
the milk. Simmer gently, and do not stir it. Set 
the saucepan in hot water, and cook in that way to 
avoid burning, shaking up the rice now and then. 
When done, beat in the butter. Butter a mould well, 
and cover the bottom with the bread-crumbs. Cover 
this with rice; wet with a raw custard made of the 
other pint of milk, the yolks of the eggs and the sugar. 
On this sprinkle suet ; then a layer of the mixed fruit. 
More bread-crumbs, rice, custard, suet and fruit, until 
the dish is nearly full.. The top layer should be 
-erumbs. Bake for an hour in a moderate oven. 
When nearly done, draw to the door of the oven and 
cover with a méringue made of the whites of the eggs 
whisked stiff with a very little powdered sugar. 





PUDDINGS. 239 

Eat warm, with sweetened cream as sauce. But it 
is also very good cold, eaten with cream. 

This, in my opinion, deserves the highest rank among 
rice puddings, which are, by the way, far more respect- 
able as desserts than is usually believed. There are so 
many indifferent, and worse than indifferent ones made 
and eaten, that discredit has fallen upon the whole 
class. If properly made and cooked, they are not only 
wholesome, but palatable dainties. 


Atmonp Ricr Puppina. 


1 quart of milk. 

1 cup raw rice. 

D egos. 

1 cup sugar. A little salt. 

A little grated lemon-peel—about one teaspoonful. 

4 pound sweet almonds, blanched. 

Soak the rice in a very little water for four hours; 
put it into a farina-kettle; fill the outer kettle with 
hot water; pour a pint of milk over the rice, and sim- 
mer gently until it is tender, and each grain almost 
translucent. beat the eggs and sugar together, add 
the other pint of milk, then the rice. Mix all well to- 
gether, flavor with the lemon-peel (or two or three 
peach-leaves may be boiled with the rice, if you do not 
like the lemon). Boil in a buttered mould. An oval 
fluted one is prettiest if you have it—what is known as 
the musk-melon pattern. It should be cooked steadily 
about an hour—certainly not less. Dip the mould in 
cold water; let it stand uncovered an instant; turn 
out upon a flat dish and stick it all over with the 
almonds blanched, and cut into long shreds. 


240 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Have ready some rich, sweet custard for sauce, or 
sweetened cream. 


Sournern Rice Puppia. ef. 


1 quart fresh, sweet milk. 

1 cup raw rice. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

1 cup sugar. 

4 egos, Honan light. 

Grated lemon-peel—about one tans paonein 

A pinch of cinnamon, and same of mace. 

Soak the rice in acup ot the milk for two hours. 
Turn into a farina-kettle; add the rest-of the milk, and 
simmer until the rice is tender. Rub the butter and 
sugar to a cream. Beat up the eggs, and whisk this 
into them until the mixture is very light. Let the rice 
cool a little while you are doing this. Stir all together, 
flavor, put into a buttered mould, and bake about three- 
quarters of an hour in a moderate oven. If baked too 
long the custard will separate into curds and whey. 
Eat warm with sauce, or cold with sugar and cream. 


Rick Mértineoutr. rf 


Make according to the above receipt, but when done, 
draw to the door of the oven, and cover with the fol- 
lowing mixture: 

Whites of four eggs, whisked stiff. 

1 large table-spoonful powdered sugar. 

Juice of 1 lemon. 

Spread quickly and evenly. Close the oven and 
bake three minutes more, or until it is very delicately 
browned. 


<p eae 


PUDDINGS. 941 


Rostz’s Rick Cusrarp. > 


1 quart of milk. 

3 eggs, well beaten. 

4 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

1 scant table-spoonful butter. 

A little salt. 

1 small cup bored rice. 

Boil the rice, and while sti]l warm, drain, and stir 
into the milk. Beat the eggs; rub butter and sugar 
together, and add to them. Mix all up well, and bake 
in buttered dish half an hour in a pretty quick oven. 


Tapioca Custarp Puppia. >/ 


1 cup tapioca, soaked over night in cold water 
enough to cover it. 

1 quart of milk. 

1 large cup powdered sugar. 

5 egos. 

Half the grated peel of one lemon. 

A very little salt. 

Make a custard of the yolks, sugar and milk. Warm 
the milk slightly in a farina-kettle before mixing with 
the other ingredients. Beat this custard into the 
soaked tapioca; salt; whisk the whites of the eggs to 
a standing froth, stir in swiftly and lightly; set the 
pudding-dish (well buttered) into a pan of boiling 
water, and bake, covered, in a moderate oven until the 
custard is well “set.” Brown delicately by setting it 
for a minute on the upper grating of a quicker oven. 

This may be eaten warm or cold, with or without 


sauce. 
i 


942 = =~—-s«- BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


EneuisH Tapioca Puppia. >} 


1 cup tapioca. 

3 pints fresh milk. 

D eggs. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

1 cup sugar. 

% pound raisins, seeded and cut in half. 

Half the grated peel of 1 lemon. | 

Soak the tapioca one hour in a pint of the milk; 
pour into a glass, or stone-ware jar; set in a pot of 
warm water and bring to a boil. When the tapioca is 
soft all through, turn out to cool somewhat, while you 
make the custard. Beat the eggs very light; rub 
butter and sugar together; mix all with the tapioca, 
the fruit last. Bake in buttered dish one hour. 


Arrowroor Puppine. (Cold.) 


3 even table-spoonfuls arrowroot. 

2 table-spoonfuls of sugar. 

1 table-spoonful of butter 

3 cups rich new milk. 

4 pound crystallized peaches, chopped fine. 

Heat the milk scalding hot in a farina-kettle. Wet 
the arrowroot with cold milk, and stir into this. When 
it begins to thicken, add sugar and butter. Stir con- 
stantly for fifteen minutes. Turn out into a bowl, and 
when almost cold beat in the fruit. Wet a mould, 
put in the mixture, and set in a cold place until 
firm. 

Hat with powdered sugar and cream. 


PUDDINGS. 243 


Arrowroot Pupprine. ( fot.) 


3 even table-spoonfuls arrowroot, 

1 quart new milk. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

4 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

4 egos, beaten light. 

A little nutmeg. 

Vanilla flavoring. 

Scald the milk; wet the arrowroot with cold milk, 
and pour the hot gradually upon it, stirring all the 
time. Beat the eggs very light, rub butter and sugar 
together; mix with the eggs; whisk hard for a minute 
before pouring the milk in withthem. Flavor; put 
into a buttered mould. The water should be nearly 
boiling when it goes in, and boil steadily for one hour. 
If you have a steamer, it is best cooked in that, the 
heat reaching all parts of the covered mould at the 
same time. Set in cold water a minute before turning 
it out. Hat with brandy or wine sauce. 


Saco Puppina. ef 


1 small cup of sago, soaked over night in cold water. 

1 quart of milk. 

5 eggs. 

4 table-spoonfuls of sugar. 

A pinch of cinnamon, and same of nutmeg. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

In the morning put the soaked sago into a farina- 
kettle, with one pint of milk; bring to a slow boil, and 
keep it on the fire until it is tender and clear, and has 
soaked up all the milk. Make a custard of the beaten 


244 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


egos, the milk, the butter and sugar rubbed together, 
the spice, and when the sago is nearly cold, beat it in. 
Bake in a buttered dish. It should be done in litle 
over half an hour.. 

You can boil the same mixture, if desired, in a 
buttered mould. It will take more than an hour to 
cook. 

Eat cold or hot. If warm, with sauce. If cold, 
with powdered sugar and cream. It is nice with a 
meringue on top. 


Atmonp Corn-Srarcu Pupprne. > 


1 quart of milk. 

4 table-spoonfuls corn-starch. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

Yolks of five eggs, whites of two. 

+ pound sweet almonds—blanched. 

Rose-water, and bitter almond. 

2 cup powdered sugar. 

Scald the milk; wet the corn-starch to smooth paste 
with a little cold milk, and stir into the boiling. Cook 
until it begins to thicken well. Take from the fire and 
stir in the butter. Let it cool while you make the 
almond paste and the custard. The almonds should 
be blanched long enough beforehand to get perfectly 
cold before you pound them to a paste, a few ata time, 
in a bowl or Wedgewood mortar. Drop in rose-water, 
now and then, to prevent them from oiling. Make a 
custard of the yolks, the whites of two eggs, and the 
sugar. Beat this gradually and thoroughly into the 
corn-starch paste; flavor with bitter almond; finally 
stir in the almond paste. Bake ina buttered dish about 


PUDDINGS. 945 


half an hour. When almost done cover with a mé- 
ringue made of the whites reserved, and a very little 
powdered sugar. Kat warm—not hot, with cream 
and sugar. It is also good when it has been set on 
the ice until very cold. In winter it is easy to freeze 
it. Itis then delicious, eaten with rich cream or cus: 
tard. 


Corn-MeraL Fruit Puppia. 


3 pints of milk. 

1 heaping cup white Indian meal. 

1 cup flour, | 

4 egos, well beaten. 

1 cup white sugar. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter, melted. 

4 pound raisins, seeded, and cut in two. 

1 teaspoonful, heaping, of salt. 

1 teaspoonful mixed cinnamon and mace. 

1 teaspoonful soda, wet up with boiling water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream of tartar, sifted in the flour. 

Scald a pint of the milk, and with it wet the meal. 
Stir it up well, and let it get almost, or quite cold. 
While cooling, beat in the flour wet with cold milk. 
Beat all up hard and long. Make a custard of the re- 
maining milk, the eggs and sugar. Beat gradually 
into the cooled paste. When all are mixed into a 


light batter, put in the butter, spice, the fruit, dredged 


well with flour; last of all, the dissolved soda. Beat 
up hard and quickly, bringing your spoon up from the 
bottom of the dish, and full of batter at every stroke. 
Pour into a buttered dish, and bake in a tolerably 
quick, steady oven. It should be done in from half to 


246 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


three-quarters of an hour, if the heat be just right. I 
it should brown too rapidly, cover with paper. 
This is a very good pudding. 


Corn-Mrat Puppine wirnour Hees. ef. 


2 cups Indian meal. 

1 cup flour. 

2 table-spoonfuls sugar (or molasses). 

3 cups sour mite ae thick, all the better. 

1 great spoonful melted butter. 

1 teaspoonful—a full one—of soda. 

1 teaspoonful of salt. 

4 teaspoonful cinnamon. 

Put meal and flour together in a bowl, and mix 
them up well with the salt. Make a hole in the mid- 
dle, and pour in the milk, stirring the meal, etc., down 
into it from the sides gradually. Beat until free from 
lumps. Put in butter, spice and sugar—the soda, dis- 
solved in hot water, at the last. Beat up well for five 
minutes. Butter a tin mould with a cover; pour in 
the batter and boil steadily for an hour and a half. 

Eat hot with sweet sauce. 


Hasry Pupprne. ef 


1 heaping cup of Indian meal. 

4 cup flour. 

1 quart boiling water. 

1 pint milk. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

Wet up meal and flour with the milk and stir into 
the boiling water. Boil hard half an hour, stirring al- 





Cee ee ee 


PUDDINGS. Q47 


most constantly from the bottom. Put in salt and 
butter, and simmer ten minutes longer. Turn into a 
deep, uncovered dish, and eat with sugar and cream, 
or sugar and butter with nutmeg. 

Our children like it. 


Ritcze-FLrour Hasry Puppine. 


1 quart new milk. 

3 table-spoonfuls rice-flour. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

Seald the milk and stir into it the rice flour, wet up 
with cold milk. Boil steadily, stirring all the while, 
for half an hour. Add salt and butter; let the pud- 
ding stand in hot water three minutes after you have 
ceased to stir, and turn out into deep, open dish. 

Eat with cream and sugar. 

N. B. Always boil hasty puddings and custards in 
a farina-kettle, or a pail set within a pot of hot water. 
It is the only safe method. 


Farina Popping. pe 


Make according to last receipt, but boil three-quar- 
ters of an hour, and, ten minutes before taking it up, 
stir into it two eggs beaten light and thinned with 
three table-spoonfuls of milk. Cook slowly, and stir 
all the time, after these go in. To a quart of milk, 
use at least four table-spoonfuls of farina. 

A good dessert for children—and not to be despised 
by their elders. ' 


248 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TRA. 


Susiz’s Breap Puppina. ef 


1 quart of milk. 

4 egos—the whites of 3 more for méringue. 

2 cups very fine, dry bread-crumbs. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

1 teacupful sugar. 

Juice and half the grated peel of 1 lemon. 

Beat eggs, sugar and butter together. Soak the 
crumbs in the milk and mix all well, beating very 
hard and rapidly. Season, and bake in greased bak- 
ing-dish. When almost done, cover with a méringue 
made of the whites of three eggs and a little powdered 
sugar. 

Eat cold. It is very nice. 


Frurr Breap Pupowe. (Very Fine.) -f 


1 quart of milk. 

1 cup of sugar. 

3 large cups very fine bread-crumbs. 

4 cup suet—powdered. 

% pound raisins seeded and cut in two. 

1 table-spoonful finely shred citron. 

% pound sultana raisins, washed well and dried. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream of tartar, stirred into the dry 
crumbs. 

A little salt, nutmeg and cinnamon. 

3 eggs beaten light. 

Soak the bread-crumbs in the milk; next, beat in 
the whipped eggs and sugar; the suet and spice. 
Whip the batter very light before the fruit—-strictly 





PUDDINGS. QAO 


dredged with flour and well mixed—goes in. Put the 
soda in last. Beat three minutes steadily, before put- 
ting it into buttered mould. Boil two hours. Keep 
the water boiling hard all the time. Eat with brandy- 
sauce. 


Breap AnD Raistn Pupprna. 


1 quart milk. 

Enough slices of baker’s bread—stale—to fill your 
dish. 

Butter to spread the bread. 

4 eggs. 

% cup of sugar. 
~2 pound of raisins, seeded and each cut into three 
pieces. | 

Butter the bread, each slice of which should be an 
inch thick, and entirely free from crust. Make a raw 
custard of eggs, sugar and milk. Butter a pudding- 
dish and put a layer of sliced bread at the bottom, 
fitted closely together and cut to fit the dish. Pour a 
little custard upon this, strew the cut raisins evenly 
over it; and lay in more buttered bread. Proceed in 
this order until the dish is full. The uppermost layer 
should be bread well buttered and soaked in the cus- 
tard. Cover the dish closely, set in a baking pan 
nearly full of hot water, and bake an hour. When 
done, uncover, and brown lightly. 


O7, 


You can spread with a méringue, just before taking 
from the oven. 
Eat hot, with sauce. 
* 


250 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Cuerry Breap Pouppine. 


Is very good made as above, substituting nice dried 
cherries—without stones—for the raisins. 

Both of these are more palatable than one would 
imagine from reading the receipts; are far more easily 
made, less expensive, and more digestible than the 
pie, “ without which father wouldn’t think he could 
divers 


Witutn’s Favorirs. ( Very good.) 


1 loaf stale baker’s bread. French bread, if you can 
get it. It must be white and light. 

4 cup suet, powdered. 

4+ pound citron, chopped very fine. 

-4 pound sweet almonds blanched and shaved thin. 

5 large pippins, pared, cored and chopped. 

1 cup cream and same of milk. 

A little salt, stirred into the cream. 

1 cup of powdered sugar. 

Cut the bread into slices an inch thick, and pare off 
the crust. Cover the bottom of a buttered mould 
(with plain sides) with these, trimming them to fit 
the mould and to lie closely together. Soak this 
layer with cream; spread with the suet, and this with 
the fruit chopped fine and mixed together. Sprinkle 
this well with sugar, and strew almond shavings over 
it. Jit on another stratum of bread; soaking this 
with milk; then suet, fruit, sugar, almonds, and 
another layer of bread wet with cream. The topmost 
layer must be bread, and very wet. Boil two hours. 





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PUDDINGS. 951 


Dip the mould in cold water, and turn out carefully 
upon adish. Sift powdered sugar over it. 
Eat hot with sweet sauce. 


STEAMED Breap Puppine. > 

1 pint milk. 

2 cups fine bread-crumbs. 

4 pound suet powdered. 

4 pound sultana raisins, picked, washed and dried. 

3 egas. 

1 dessert-spoonful corn-starch. 

1 tablespoonful sugar. 

A. little salt. 

% pound macaroons or ratifias. 

Make a custard of milk, eggs and sugar; hea al- 
most to a boil and stir in the corn-starch wet with 
milk. Cook one minute ; take from the fire and pour, 
a little at a time, over the bread-crumbs; beating into 
a rather thick batter. Butter a mould thickly; line it 
with the macaroons, and put, spoonful by spoonful, a 
layer of batter in the bottom. Cover this with suet, 
then raisins; sprinkle with sugar—put in more batter, 
and so on until the mould is nearly full. Fit on the 
top; put into the steamer over a pot of boiling water 
and steam, with the water at a hard boil, at least two 
hours. Dip the mould into cold water to make the 
pudding leave the sides; let it stand a moment, and 
turn out, with care, upon a hot dish. 

Eat hot with wine sauce. 


Custarp Brrap Puppina. ( Boiled.) fe 


2 cupfuls fine bread-crumbs—stale and dry. 
1 quart of milk. 


252 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


6 eggs—whites and yolks beaten separately. 

1 table-spoonful rice flour. 

1 teaspoonful salt, and 4 teaspoonful soda. 

Flavor to taste. 

Soak the bread-crumbs in the milk; put into a 
farina-kettle and heat almost to a boil. Stir in the 
rice-flour wet with cold milk; cook one minute; turn 
into a basin and beat hard several minutes. When 
almost cold, add the yolks of the eggs, the soda (dis- 
solved in hot water) and the flavoring; finally, the 
whipped whites, mixing them in swiftly and thor- 
oughly. Boil in a greased mould an hour and a half. 
Turn out, and eat hot with sweet sauce. 


Macaronr anp ALMoND PuDDING. 


4 pound best Italian macaroni, broken into inch 
lengths. 

3 pints milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

1 cup white sugar. 

5 eggs. 

4 pound sweet almonds, blanched and chopped. 

Rose-water and bitter-almond flavoring. 

A little salt and nutmeg. 

Simmer the macaroni half an hour in a pint of the 
milk. 

Stirin the butter and salt. Cover the saucepan, and 
take from the fire, letting it stand covered while you 
make a custard of the rest of the milk, the eggs and 
sugar. Chop the almonds, adding rose-water to keep 
them from oiling. When the macaroni is nearly cold, 
put into the custard; stir up well, but break it as little 





PUDDINGS. 953 


as possible; put in nutmeg, bitter-almond extract ; 
lastly the almonds. 
Bake in the dish in which it is to be served. 


Pramn Macaroni Puppine. > 


+ pound macaroni, broken into pieces an inch 
long. 3 

1 pint water. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

1 large cup of milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

Grated peel of half a lemon. 

A little cinnamon and salt. 

Boil the macaroni slowly in the water, in one vessel 
set within another of hot water, until it is tender and 
has soaked up the water. Add the butter and salt. 
Let it stand covered five minutes without removing it 
from the range; put in the rest of the ingredients. 
Stir frequently, taking care not to break the maca- 
roni, and simmer, covered ten minutes longer before 
turning it out into a deep dish. 

Eat hot with butter and sugar, or sugar and cream. 


Essex Puppina. 


2 cups fine bread-crumbs. 

# cup powdered suet. 

2 table-spoonfuls sago, soaked over night in a little 
water. 

5 egos, beaten light. 

1 cup of milk. 

1 cup of sugar. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch, wet in cold milk. 


254 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


About 4 pound whole raisins, “ plumped” by laying 
them in bovling water two minutes. 

A little salt. 

Set the sago over the fire in a farina-kettle with 
enough water to cover it, and let it cook gently until 
tender and nearly dry. Make a custard of the eggs, 
milk and sugar; add the crumbs, beating into a thick 
batter; next the suet, corn-starch, sago and salt. Beat 
all up long and hard. 

Butter a mould very thickly, and lay the raisins in 
the bottom and sides, in rings or stripes, or whatever 
pattern you may fancy. Fill the mould by spoonfuls 
—not to spoil your pattern—with the batter. Steam 
one hour and a half, or boil one hour. 

Dip in cold water; let it stand one minute, and 
turn out upon a flat dish. The raisins should be im- 
bedded in the pudding, but distinctly visible upon the 
surface. 

Eat with jelly sauce. 


Norr.—F or instructions about pudding-sauces, please 
see “Common SENSE IN THE HovsEHoLD—GENERAL 
Recrrets,” page 419. 


BomEp AppLtre Pupprnea. 


6 large juicy apples, pared, cored and chopped. 

2 cups fine bread-crumbs. 

1 cup powdered suet. 

Juice of 1 lemon, and half the peel. 

4 teaspoonful of salt. 

1 teaspoonful of soda dissolved in hot water. 

Mix all together with a wooden spoon, stirring until 





PUDDINGS. 255 


the ingredients are well incorporated into a damp 
mass. Put into a buttered mould, and boil three hours. 
Eat with a good, sweet sauce. 


Baxep Appie Puppine. >} 


6 or 7 fine juicy apples, pared and sliced. 

Slices of stale baker’s bread, buttered. 

% pound citron, shred thin. 

Grated peel of half a lemon, and a little cinnamon. 

1 cup light, brown sugar. 

Cut the crust from the bread; butter it on both 
sides, and fit a layer in the bottom of a buttered mould. 
Lay sliced apple over this, sprinkle with citron ; strew 
sugar and a little of the seasoning over all, and put the 
next layer of bread. The slices of bread should be not 
quite half an inch thick. Butter the uppermost layer 
very abundantly. Cover the mould or dish, and bake 
an hour and a half. 

Turn out and eat with pudding-sauce. 


AprpLtE Barrer Poupprne. 


6 or 8 fine juicy apples, pared and cored. 

1 quart of milk. | 

10 table-spoonfuls of flour. 

6 egos, beaten very light. 

1 table-spoonful butter—melted. 

1 saltspoonful of salt. 

4 teaspoonful soda. 

1 teaspoonful cream of tartar. 

Set the apples closely together in the baking-dish ; 
put in enough cold water to half cover them, and bake, 
closely covered, until the edges are clear, but not until 


256 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


they begin to break. Drain off the water, and let the — 


fruit get cold before pouring over them a batter made 
of the ingredients enumerated above. Dake in a quick 
oven. 

Serve in the baking-dish, and eat with sauce. 


Pracu Barrer Puppia. 


This is made in the same way, but if the peaches are 
fully ripe and soft, they need no previous cooking. 
The stones must be left in. 

This is a delightful pudding. 


Preacu Licurt CreEMA. 


Some fine, ripe peaches pared, and cut in half, leay- 
ing out the stones. 

3 eggs, and the whites of two more. 

3 cups of milk. 

$ cup powdered sugar. 

2 table-spoonfuls corn-starch, or rice-flour. If you 
have neither, take 3 table-spoonfuls best family flour. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

Scald the milk; stir in the corn-starch wet with cold 
milk. Simmer, stirring carefully until it begins to 
thicken. Take from the fire and put in the butter. 
Beat the eggs light, and add when the corn-starch is 
lukewarm. Whip all until light and smooth. Put a 
thick substratum of peaches in the bottom of a buttered 
baking-dish ; strew with the sugar and pour the créma 
gently over them. Bake in a pretty quick oven ten 
minutes. Then spread with a méringue made of the 
whites of five eggs, whisked stiff with a little powdered 





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Se et cera 


PUDDINGS. 257 


sugar. Shut the oven-door for two minutes to harden 
this. 
Eat warm with sauce, or cold with cream. 


Risrort Porrs. pf. 

5 eggs. 

The weight of the eggs in flour. 

Half their weight in butter and in sugar. 

Juice of 1 lemon, and half the grated peel. 

4 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Rub the butter and sugar to a cream, whisking until 
it is very light. Beat the whites to a standing froth ; 
the yolks thick and smooth. Strain the latter throngh 
a sieve into the butter and sugar ; stir in well; add the 
lemon, the soda, and the flour alternately with the 
whites, beating up rapidly aiter these go in. Have 
ready small cups or muflin-rings, well-buttered; put 
the mixture into them, and bake at once. In less than 
half an hour they should rise high in the pans. Test 
with a clean straw to see if they are done; turn out 
upon a hot dish, and serve with jelly sauce. 

These are almost sure to be a success if made with 
good prepared flour—Hecker’s, for example. In this 
case, use no soda. 


JAM Pures. 


3 egos. Half a cup of sweet jam or jelly. 

The weight of the eggs in Hecker’s prepared flour. 

Half their weight in sugar and butter. 

Beat the eggs stiff, whites and yolks separately. 

Cream the butter and sugar, strain the yolks into the 
eream ; beat well before putting in the whites. The 


258 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


flour should go in last. Put the mixture in great 
spoonfuls upon your baking-tin. -They should not 
touch, and must be as uniform in size as you can make 
them. Bake fifteen minutes in a quick oven. When 
cold, run a sharp knife around each, leaving about au 
inch uncut to serve as a hinge. Pull far enough open 
to put in a spoonful of jelly or jam; close, and sift 
white sugar over all when they are filled. 


Corrace Porrs. * 


1 cup milk, and same of cream. 

4 egos beaten stiff, and the yolks strained. 

1 table-spoonful butter, chopped into the flour. 

A. very little salt. 

Enough prepared flour for thick batter. 

Mix the beaten yolks with the milk and cream ; then 
the salt and whites, lastly the flour. Bake in buttered 
iron pans, such as are used for “ gems ” and corn-bread. 


The oven should be quick. Turn out and eat with — 


sweet sauce. 


Lemon Pourrs. 


1 cup of prepared flour. Hecker’s always, if pro- 
curable. 

% cup powdered sugar. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

3 eggs, beaten stiff. Strain the yolks. 

A little salt, and grated peel of 1 lemon. 

3 table-spoonfuls milk. 

Mix, and bake in little pans as directed in previous 
receipt. 


. 


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PUDDINGS. 259 


Vanttta Cream Pourrs. ‘fe 


1 cup boiling water. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

1 cup prepared flour. 

2 eggs—beaten well. 

1 cup powdered sugar and 

Whites of 2 eggs, 

1 pint cream whipped with a little sugar. 

Vanilla seasoning in cream. 

Put the water over the fire with one table-spoonful 
of butter. Boil up, and work in the flour without re- 
moving from the fire. Stir until stiff, and work in the 
rest of the butter. Take from the range, turn out into 
a bowl and beat in the eggs. Put upon a greased bak- 
ing-tin in table-spoonfuls, taking care not to let them 
touch. - Bake quickly, but thoroughly. When done 
and cold, cut a round piece out of the bottom of each, 
introduce the handle of a teaspoon, and scrape out most 
of the inside. Fill the cavity with the whipped cream 
into which you have beaten two table-spoonfuls of icing ; 
fit back the round piece taken from the bottom; set 
on a dish, and ice. Put into a quick oven one minute 
to dry. 


for icing. 


CorrEzs Cream Porrs. 


Make as above, but beat into the icing two table- 
spoonfuls of black coffee—as strong as can be made, 
and a little of this icing into the whipped cream. 


CuHocoLatE OrrAm Porrs. 


Instead of coffee, season the cream and icing with 2 
table-spoonfuls sweet chocolate, grated. That flavored 


- 


260 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


with vanilla is best. If you have not this, add a little 
vanilla extract. 


Corn-Mrat Pores. 


1 quart boiling milk. 

2 scant cups white “corn flour.” 4 cup wheat flour. 

1 scant cup powdered sugar. A little salt. 

4 egos—hbeaten light.. 1 table-spoonful butter. 

4 teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in hot water. 

1 teaspoonful cream of tartar, sifted into flour. 

4 teaspoonful mixed cinnamon and nutmeg. 

Boil the milk, and stir into it the meal, flour and 
salt. Boil fifteen minutes, stirring well up from the 
bottom. Put in the butter and beat hard in a bowl 
for three minutes. When cold, put in the eggs whip- 
ped light with the sugar, the seasoning and soda. 
Whip up very faithfully ; bake in greased cups in a 
steady oven. 

Turn out of cups and eat with pudding sauce, or 
with butter alone. 


Whitt Porrs (Very nice). 


1 pint rich milk. 

Whites of 4 egas whipped stiff. 

1 heaping cup prepared flour. 

1 scant cup powdered sugar. 

Grated peel of $ lemon. 

A little salt. 

Whisk the eggs and sugar to a méringue, and add 
this alternately with the flour to the milk. (If you 
have cream, or half cream half milk, it is better.) 
Beat until the mixture is very light, and bake in but- 


PUDDINGS. 261 


tered cups or tins. Turn out, sift powdered sugar 
over them, and eat with lemon sauce. 

These are delicate in texture and taste, and pleasing 
to the eye. 


Wuire Puppia. of. 


3 cups of milk. 

Whites of 6 eges—whipped stiff. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

1 table-spoonful rose-water. 

2 heaping cups prepared flour. 

Whip the sugar into the stiffened whites ; add but- 
ter and rose-water; then the flour, stirred in very 
lightly. 

Bake in buttered mould in a rather quick oven. 
Eat with sweet sauce. 


Rusk Pupprve. rf 


8 light, stale rusk. 

A little more than 1 quart of milk. 

5 eges—whites and yolks beaten separately. 

4 cup powdered sugar, 4 teaspoonful soda. 

Flavor to taste, with lemon, vanilla or bitter almond. 

Pare every bit of the crust from the rusk, wasting as 
little as possible. Crumb them fine into a bowl and 
pour a pint of milk boiling hot over them. Cover and 
Jet them stand until cold. Make a raw custard of the 
rest of the milk, the eggs and the sugar. Stir the 
soda, dissolved in hot water, into the soaked rusk, 
when they are cold, put in the custard. Pour the 
mixture into a buttered baking-dish—the same in 


262 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 





which it is to be serve 
should puff up very light. 

Sift powdered sugar over the top and eat warm 
with sweet sauce. Cream sauce is particularly good 
with it. 

This is a good way to use up stale buns, rusk, etc. 
But they must be really good at first, or the pudding 
will be a failure. Rusks soon dry out, and become 
comparatively tasteless. Mever try to renew their 
youth by steaming them. You will only make them 
as sour and flat as a twice-told tale. 


Fig Puppina. 


4 4 pound best Naples figs, washed, dried and cine 

2 cups fine bread-cr al 

3 egos. 

4% cup best suet, powdered. 

2 scant cups of milk. 

4 cup white sugar. 

A little salt. 

A pinch of soda, dissolved in hot water and stirred 
into the milk. 

Soak the crumbs in the milk; stir in the eggs beaten 
light with the sugar, the salt, suet and figs. Beat three 
minutes; put in buttered mould and boil three hours. 

Kat hot with wine sauce. It is very good. 


Fig Custarp Poppina. 


1 pound best white figs. 

1 quart of milk. 

Yolks of 5 eggs, and whites of two. 

% package of gelatine, soaked in a little cold water 





PUDDINGS. 2638 


1 cup made wine jelly —lukewarm. 

4 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

Flavor to taste. 

Soak the figs for a few minutes in warm water to 
make them pliable. Split them in two, dip each piece 
in jelly, and line the inside of a buttered mould with 
them. Make a custard of the milk, yolks and sugar ; 
boil until it begins to thicken well; take off the fire 
and let it cool. Meanwhile, beat the whites of two 
egos to a stiff froth ; melt the soaked gelatine in a very 
little hot water, by setting the vessel containing this 
im a saucepan of boiling water; stir until clear. Turn 
out to cool. When nearly cold, whip gradually into 
the whisked eggs. The mixture should be white and 
thick before you stir it into the custard. Whip all 
rapidly for a few minutes, and fill the fig-lined mould. 
Set on ice, or in a cold place to form. 

Dip the mould in hot water, to loosen the pudding, 
and turn out upon a cold dish. 

ee? C7), 
Besides lining :the mould with figs, you may chop 
some very fine and mix in with the custard before 
moulding it. 

This pudding is delicious if made with fresh, ripe 
fies. 

Marrow Sponer Pupprne. 

2 cups fine sponge-cake crumbs—made from stale 
cake—the drier the better. 

4 cup beef marrow, finely minced. 

Juice of 1 lemon and half the grated peel. 

$% cup white sugar. 


264 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


4 teaspoonful grated nutmeg. 

% pound fresh layer raisins, seeded and chopped. 

¢ pound citron, minced. 

1 cup milk. 

4 egos—beaten light—strain the yolks. 

1 table-spoonful flour, and a little salt. 

Mix the powdered marrow with the crumbs. Make 
a raw custard of milk, eggs, and sugar, and pour over 
the cake. Beat well; put in the flour, seasoning, 
lastly, the fruit very thickly dredged with flour. Stir 
hard before pouring into a greased mould. Boil three 
hours. Turn out and eat hot, with cabinet-pudding 
sauce. 

Ge sure that the water actually boils before you put in 
a pudding, and do not let it stop boiling for an instant 
until it is done. Replenish from the boiling tea-kettle. 


Pua Sponce-Caxe Puppine, vfs 


1 stale sponge-cake. 

2 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

4 egos—beaten light. 

2 cups of milk. 

1 table-spoonful rice-flour or corn-starch wet up 
with cold milk. . 

Juice of 1 lemon and half the grated rind. 

Slice the cake and lay some in the bottom of a but- 
tered dish. Make a custard of the milk boiled for a 
minute with the corn-starch in it. Flavor to taste 
when you have added the eggs and sugar; pour over 
the cake; put another layer of slices; more custard, 
and so on, until the mould is full. Let it stand a few 
minutes, to soak up the custard; put the dish in the 





PUDDINGS. 265 


oven—covered—and bake half an hour. Uncover a 
few minutes before you take from the oven and brown 
slightly. 

Cocoanut SpoNGE PUDDING. pf< 
_ 2 cups stale sponge-cake crumbs. 

2 cups rich milk. 

1 cup grated cocoanut. 

Yolks of 2 eggs and whites of four. 

1 cup of white sugar. 

1 table-spoonful rose-water. 

1 glass white wine. 

Heat the milk to boiling; stir in the crumbed cake 
and beat into a soft batter. When nearly cold, add 
the beaten eggs, sugar, rose-water and cocoanut—the 
wine last. Bake in a buttered pudding-dish about 
three-quarters of an hour, or until it is firm in the 
centre and of a nice brown. Eat cold, with white 
sugar sifted over the top. 

You can make an elegant dessert of this by spread- 
ing it with a méringue made of— 

Whipped whites of 4 eggs. 

2 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

4 cupful of grated cocoanut. 

A little lemon-juice. 

Whisk until stiff; cover the pudding and leave it in 
a quick oven two or three minutes to harden it. 


Fruir Sroner-Caxe Puppine (Botled). vfa 
12 square sponge-cakes—stale. 
1 pint milk, : 
3 eggs—beaten light, fo the custard. 
% cup sugar, 
pd oe 


266 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


4 pound currants well washed and dried. 

4 pound sweet almonds blanched and cut small. 

+ pound citron chopped. 

Nearly a cup of sherry wine. 

Soak the cakes in the wine. Butter a mould very 
thickly and strew it with currants, covering the inside 
entirely. Puta layer of cakes at the bottom; spread — 
with the chopped citron and almonds; put on three or 
four spoonfuls of the raw custard, more cakes, fruit, 
custard, until the mould is full, or nearly. The pud- 
ding will swell a little. Fit on the cover, and boil one 
hour. 

Eat cold or hot. If the latter, serve jelly-sauce with 
it. If cold, turn out of the mould the day after it is 
boiled, and sift powdered sugar over it. Pile a nice 
“whip ” about the base. 


Frurr Sroner-Caxe Puppine (Baked). 


2 cups sponge-cake crumbs—very dry. 

2 cups boiling milk. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

4 cup of sugar. 

2 table-spoonfuls flour—prepared flour is best. 

4 pound currants, washed and dried. 

Whites of 3 eggs—whipped stiff. 

Bitter almond flavoring. 

Soak the cake in the hot milk; leave it over the fire 
until it is a scalding batter; stir in the butter, sugar 
and flour—(the latter previously wet up with cold 
milk), and pour into a bowl to cool. When nearly 
cold, stir in the fruit, well dredged with flour, the fla- 
voring, and whip up hard before adding the beaten 


PUDDINGS. 267 


whites. Bake in a buttered mould from half to three- 
quarters of an hour. When done, take from the oven 
and-let it cool. Just before sending to table, heap 
high with a méringue made of— 

Whites of 3 eggs. 

2 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

% pint cream, whipped stiff. 

1 glass white wine. 

This is a handsome and delightful dessert. 

If eaten hot, serve cream sauce with it 


OrANGE PuppINa. 


2 oranges—juice of both and grated peel of one. 

Juice of 1 lemon. 

% pound lady’s-fingers—stale and crumbed. 

2 cups of milk. 

4 eggs. 4% cupful sugar. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch, wet up with water. 

1 table-spoonful butter—melted. 

Soak the crumbs in the milk (raw), whip up light 
and add the eggs and sugar, already beaten to a cream 
with the batter. Next the corn-starch, and when your 
mould is buttered and water boiling hard, stir in the 
juice and peel of the fruit. Do this quickly, and 
_ plunge the mould directly into the hot water. Boil 
one hour; turn out and eat with very sweet brandy 
sauce. 


Derry Puppia. 


2 cups of milk. 
4 table-spoonfuls of sugar. 
1 heaping cup prepared flour. 


268 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Yolks of 4 eggs and whites of two. 

2 oranges. The pulp chopped very fine. Half the 
grated peel of 1 orange. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

Beat eggs and sugar together; whip in the butter 
until all are a yellow cream. To this put the orange,. 
and beat five minutes. Rub the flour smooth in the 
milk, added gradually, and stir up this with the other 
ingredients. Pour at once into a buttered mould, and 
boil one hour. 

Eat hot with jelly sauce. 


Bomep Lemon Pupprna. 


2 cups of dry bread-crumbs. 

1 cup powdered beef-suet. 

4 table-spoonfuls flour—prepared. 

% cup sugar. 

1 large lemon. All the juice and half the peel. 

4 egos—whipped light. 

1 cup of milk—a large one. 

Soak the bread-crumbs in the milk; add the suet ; 
beat eggs and sugar together and these well into the 
soaked bread. ‘To these put the lemon, lastly the 
flour, beaten in with as few strokes as will suftice to 
mix up all into a thick batter. Boil three hours in a 
buttered mould. 

Eat hot with wine sauce. 


Wayne Puppine (Good). 


2 full cups of prepared flour. 
$ cup of butter. 
1 cup of sugar—powdered. 


PUDDINGS. 269 


4 pound Sultana raisins, washed and dried. 

1 lemon—the juice and half the grated peel. 

% pound citron, cut into long strips—very thin. 

5 eggs—whites and yolks beaten light separately. 

Rub butter and sugar to a cream, and strain into 
this the beaten yolks. Whip up light with the lemon ; 
then the flour, alternately with the stiff whites. The 
raisins should be dredged with flour and go in last. 
Butter a mould thickly, line it with the strips of citron ; 
put in the batter, a few spoonfuls at a time; cover, 
and set in a pan of boiling water in the oven. Keep 
the water in the pan replenished from the boiling ket- 
tle, and bake steadily an hour anda half. Turn out 
upon hot plate. 

Eat warm with brandy sauce. It is a delicious pud- 
ding. Leave room in mould for the pudding to swell. 





Atmonp SponcE Puppina. 


4 egos—hbeaten very light. 

The weight of the eggs in sugar and the weight of 5 
egos in prepared flour. 

Half the weight of 4 in butter. 

4+ pound sweet almonds blanched and pounded. 

Extract of bitter almond. 

A little rose-water. 

Rub butter and sugar to a light cream; add the 
yolks and beat hard before putting in the whites alter- 
nately with the flour. The almonds, pounded to a 
paste with a little rose-water and bitter almond ex- 
tract, should be put in last. 

Boil in buttered mould ; or set in a pan of water as 
directed in the last receipt. The mould should not be 


270. BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


much more than half full. Boil nearly an hour. Eat 
with lemon sauce—not very sweet. 
This is nice baked as a cake. 


Boston Lemon Puppine. >{ 


2 cups fine, dry bread-crumbs. 

2 cup of powdered sugar, and half as much butter. 

2 lemons, all the juice, and half the gr ated peel. 

2 table- fairl prepared flour. 

5 egos, beaten light. The yolks must be strained. 

Rub butter and sugar to a cream; add the beaten 
yolks and lemon ; whip very light; put in handful by 
handful the bread-crumbs alternately with the stiffened 
whites, then the flour. Butter a mould, and put in the 
batter (always remembering to leave room for swell- 
ing), and boil two hours steadily. 

If you have a pudding-mould with a cylinder in the 
centre, use it for this pudding. Turn out upon a hot 
dish, and fill the hole in the middle with the following 
mixture : 

1 cup powdered sugar, 

3 table-spoonfuls butter, 

Juice of one lemon. 

Whipped white of 1 egg. 

4 teaspoonful nutmeg. 

Beat all well together. 

If you have not an open mould, make this sauce, and 
pour half over the pudding, sending the rest in a boat 
to table. 


rubbed to a cream. 


Boston Orange Puppina. 


Is made in the same way, substituting oranges for lem- — 
ons in the pudding, but retaining the lemon in the sauce. 


PUDDINGS. O71 


Both of these are excellent desserts, and if the direc- 
tions be strictly followed, are easy and safe to make. 
Either can be baked as well as boiled. 


Lemon Pouppina. 


6 butter-crackers soaked in water, and crushed to » 
pulp. 

- 8lemons. Half the grated peel. 

1 cup of molasses. 

A pinch of salt. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

Some good pie-crust for shells. 

Chop the pulp of the lemons very fine; stir into the 
crushed crackers, with the butter and salt. Beat the 
molasses gradually into this with the grated peel. Fill 
open shells of pastry with the mixture, and bake. 


QuxEEN’s Pupprne. -fs 


8 or 10 fine, juicy apples, pared and cored. 

4 pound macaroons, pounded fine. 

2 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

$ teaspoonful: cinnamon. 

4 cup crab-apple, or other sweet firm jelly, like 
quince. 

1 table-spoonful brandy. 

1 pint of milk. 

1 table-spoonful best flour or corn-starch. 

Whites of 3 eggs. A little salt. 

Put the apples into a pudding-dish, well buttered ; 
fill half full of water; cover closely and steam in a 
slow oven until so tender that a straw will pierce them. 


Let them stand until cold, covered. Then drain off 
12* 


272 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


the water. Put into each apple a spoonful of jelly, and 
afew drops of brandy; sprinkle with cinnamon and 
sugar. Cover again and leave alone for ten minutes. 
Scald the milk, and stir in the macaroons, the salt, the 
flour, wet in a little cold milk. Boil all together one 
minute. Take from the fire; beat for a few minutes, 
and let it cool before whipping in the beaten whites. 
Pour over the apples, and bake half an hour in a mod- 
erate oven. 
Eat hot with cream sauce. 


Orance Custrarp Puppinea. ohe 


1 quart milk. ~ 

5 eggs. The beaten yolks of all, the whites of two. 

Grated peel of 1 orange. 

4 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar for custard, and 2 
spoonfuls for méringue. 

Scald the milk, and pour carefully over the eggs 
which you have beaten light with the sugar. Boil one 
minute, season, and pour into a buttered pudding-dish. 
Set this in a pan of boiling water, and bake about half 
an hour, or until well “set.” Spread with a merengue 
made of the reserved whites. Return to oven to 
harden, but do not let it scorch. 

Kat cold. 

Rock Oustarp Puppine. ef. 

1 quart milk. 

6 eggs. 

1 cup powdered sugar for custard and méringue. 

1 table-spoonful rice-flour, wet up with cold water. 

A little salt. 

Vanilla flavoring. 


PUDDINGS. Nees 


Boil the milk ; beat up the yolks of the eggs with three- 
quarters of the sugar; cook in the milk until the mixture 
is smoking hot; stir in the rice-flour, salt, and boil just 
one minute. Pour into a buttered baking-dish, and 
bake in a pan of hot water until the custard is nearly, 
but not quite “set.” Have ready the whites beaten 
very stiff with the rest of the sugar, and flavored with 
vanilla. Without drawing the dish from the oven, drop 
this all over it in great spoonfuls, covering it as irreg- 
ularly as possible. Do it quickly, lest the custard 
should cool and fall. Shut the oven-door for about five 
minutes more until the méringwe is delicately browned 
and the custard firm. 

Eat cold, with powdered sugar sifted over it. 


A Puan Boren Pupprne. (No. 1.) 


3 cupfuls of flour—full ones. 

2 cupfuls of “loppered ” milk or buttermilk. Sour 
cream is best of all if you can get it. 

1 full teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in hot water. 

A little salt. 

4 cupful powdered suet. 

Stir the sour milk gradually into the flour until it is 
free from lumps. Put in suet and salt; lastly beat in 
the soda-water thoroughly, but quickly. 

Boil an hour and a half, or steam two hours. 

Eat at once, hot, with hard sauce. 


Pram Boren Puppine. (No 2.) 


1 cup loppered milk or cream. 
$ cup molasses. 


274 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


$ cup butter, melted. 

2% cups flour. 

2 even teaspoonfuls of soda, dissolved in hot water. 

A little salt. 

Mix molasses and butter together, and beat until very 
light. Stir in the cream or milk, and salt; make a 
hole in the flour, and pour in the mixture. Stir down 
the flour gradually until it is a smooth batter. Beat 
in the soda-water thoroughly, and boil at once in a 
buttered mould, leaving room to swell. It should be 
done in an houranda half. Eat hot with a good sauce. 


JELLY Puppinas. of 


2 cups very fine stale biscuit or bread-crumbs. 

1 cup rich milk—half cream, if you can get it. 

5 eggs, beaten very light. 

4 teaspoonful soda, stirred in boiling water. 

1 cup sweet jelly, jam or marmalade. 

Scald the milk and pour over the erumbs. Beat 
until half cold, and stir in the beaten yolks, then the 


whites, finally the soda. Fill large cups half full with 


the batter; set in a quick oven and bake half an hour. 
When done, turn out quickly and dexteronsly ; with 
a sharp knife make an incision in the side of each; pull 
partly open, and put a liberal spoonful of the conserve 
within. Close the slit by pinching the edges with your 
fingers. 
Eat warm with sweetened cream. 


Farmer’s Pirum Pupprina. 


3 cups of flour. 
1 cup of milk, 





PUDDINGS. 275 


4 cup powdered suet. 

1 cup best molasses, slightly warmed. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

1 pound raisins, stoned and chopped. 

1 teaspoonful mixed cinnamon and mace. 

1 saltspoonful ginger. 

1 teaspoonful of salt. 

Beat suet and molasses to a cream; add the spice, 
the salt, and two-thirds of the milk; stir in the flour; 
beat hard; put in the rest of the milk, in which the 
soda must be stirred. Beat vigorously up from the 
bottom for a minute or so, and put in the fruit well 
dredged with flour. Boil in a buttered mould at least 
three hours. 

Eat very hot with butter-and-sugar sauce. 


Nursery Prum Puppina. of 


1 scaut cup of raw rice. 

1 table-spoonful rice-flour, wet up with milk. 

3 pints rich milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

4 table-spoonfuls sugar. 7 

4 pound currants, washed and dried. 

¢ pound raisins, stoned and cut in two. 

3 well-beaten eggs. 

Soak the rice two hours in just enough warm water 
to cover it; setting the vessel containing it in another 
of hot water on one side of the range. When all the 
water is soaked up, shake the rice well and add a pint 
of milk. Simmer gently, still in the saucepan of hot 
water until the rice is again dry and quite tender. 
Shake up anew, and add another pint of milk. So 


276 BREAKFASI, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


soon as this is smoking hot, put in the fruit, well 
dredged with flour; cover the saucepan and simmer 
twenty minutes. Take from the fire and put with it 
the butter, the rice-flour and a custard made of the 
remaining pint of milk, the eggs and sugar. Add 
while the rice is still hot; stir up well and bake in a 
buttered pudding-dish three-quarters of an hour, or 
less, if your oven be brisk. 
Eat warm or cold, with rich cream and sugar. 


Cocoanut Puppine. 


1 heaping cup finest bread-crumbs. 

1 table-spoonful corn starch wet with cold water. 

1 cocoanut, pared and grated. 

4 cup butter. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

2 cups milk. 

6 eggs. 

Nutmeg and rose-water to taste. 

Soak the crumbs in the milk; rub the butter and 
sugar to a cream, and put with the beaten yolks. Beat 
up this mixture with the soaked crumbs; stir in the 
corn-starch; then the whisked whites, flavoring, and, 
at the last, the grated cocoanut. Beat hard one 
minute; pour into a buttered pudding-dish—the same 
in which it is to be served—and bake in a moderate 
oven three-quarters of an hour. 

Eat very cold, with powdered sugar on top. 


Impromptu Curistmas Puppine. ( Very jine.) 


2 cups of best mince meat made for Christmas pies. 
Drain off all superfluous moisture. If the meat be 


PUDDINGS. 277 


rather too dry for pies, it will make the better pud- 
ding. 

14 cups prepared flour. 

6 eges—whites and yolks beaten separately. 

Whip the eggs and stir the yolks into the mince-meat. 
Beat them in hard for two or three minutes until tho- 
roughly incorporated. Put in the whites and the flour, 
alternately beating in each instalment before adding 
the next. Butter a large mould very well; put in the 
mixture, leaving room for the swelling of the pudding, 
and boil five hours steadily. If the boiling should 
intermit one minute, there will be a heavy streak in 
the pudding. Six hours’ boiling will do no harm. 

Turn out upon a hot dish; pour brandy over it and 
light just as it goes into the dining-room. Eat with 
rich sauce. I know of no other pudding of equal ex- 
cellence that can be made with so little trouble as this, 
and is as apt to “turn out well.” 

If you have no mince-meat in the house, you can 
buy an admirable article, ready made, at any first-class 
grocery store. It is put up in neat wooden cans (which 
are stanch and useful for holding eggs, starch, etc., 
after the mince-meat is used up) and bears the stamp, 
“ Armorr’s CELEBRATED Mince Muar.” 

And what is noteworthy, it deserves to be “ cele- 
brated.” It has never been my good fortune to meet 
with any other made mince-meat that could compare 
with it. 

Lemon Sovurrit£é Puppine. 


1 heaping cup of prepared flour. 
2 cups of rich milk. 


278 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


4 cup of butter. 

duice of 1 lemon and half the grated peel. 

4 table-spoonfuls of sugar. 

5 eggs—whites and yolks beaten separately and very 
light. 

Chop the butter into the flour. Scald the milk and 
stir into it while still over the fire, the flour and butter. 
When it begins to thicken, add it, gradually, to the 
beaten yolks and sugar. Beat all up well and turn out 
to cool ina broad dish. It should be cold when you 
whip in the stiffened whites. Butter a mould; pour 
in the mixture, leaving abundance of room for the 
soupié to earn its name—and steam one hour and a half, 
keeping the water under the steamer at a fast, hard 
boil. 

When done, dip it into cold water for an instant, let 
it stand one minute, after you take it out of this, and 
turn out upon a hot dish. 

Eat with brandy sauce. 


Léicut Crima Sourrié. ofe 


1 quart of milk. 

8 table-spoonfuls corn-starch, wet with cold milk. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

% cup strawberry jam, or sweet fruit jelly. 

6 eggs—beaten very light. 

Flavoring to taste. 

Boil the milk, and stir in the corn-starch. Stir one 
minute and pour into a bowl containing the yolks, the 
whites of two eggs and half the sugar. Whip up for 
two or three minutes and put into a nice baking-dish, 
buttered. Set in a pan of boiling water and bake half 


NE nee a ae ee ey ee 


PUDDINGS. 279 


an hour, or until firm. Just before withdrawing it 
from the oven, cover with jelly or jam, put on dexter- 
ously and quickly, and this, with a mérangue made of 
the reserved whites and sugar. Shut the oven until 
the meringue is set and slightly colored. 

Eat cold, with cream. 


Cuerry SovurFrLté Puppinea. 


1 cup prepared flour. 

2 cups of milk. 

5 eggs. 

3 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

Bitter almond flavoring. 

% pound crystallized or glacé cherries. 

A pinch of salt. 

Seald the milk, and stir into it the flour, wet up 
with a cup of the milk. Boil one minute, stirring well 
up from the bottom of the farina-kettle ; mix in the 
yolks beaten light with the sugar, flavor, and let it get 
perfectly cold. Then whip the whites until you can 
cut them with a knife, and beat, fast and hard, into 
the custard. Butter a mould Bee ; strew a the 
cherries until the inside is pretty well covered ; put in 
the mixture—leaving room for pufling—and boil for 
an hour and a half. | 

Dip into cold water; take it out and let it stand, after 
the lid is removed, a full minute, before turning it out. 

Eat warm with wine, or lemon sauce. 


¢ 
Sponce-Cake SovurrLe Puppina. of 


12 square (penny) sponge-cakes—stale. 
5 eggs. 


250 . BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 cup milk. 

2 glasses sherry. 

4 cup of powdered sugar. 

Put the cakes in the bottom of a buttered pudding- 
dish; pour the wine over them, and cover while you 
make the custard. Heat the milk and pour over the 
yolks of the eggs, beaten and strained, and half the 
sugar. Return to the fire, and stir until quite thick. 
Pour this upon the soaked cakes, slowly, that they may 
not rise to the top; put in the oven, and when it is 
again very hot, spread above it the whites whisked 
stiff with the rest of the sugar. 

Bake ten minutes, or until the mérengue is lightly 
browned and firm. Serve in the baking-dish. 

Eat cold. It will be found very nice. 


AppLe SourFLte Puppine. >f 


6 or 7 fine juicy apples. 

1 cup fine bread-crumbs. 

4 eggs 

1 cup of sugar. 

2 table-spoonfuls butter. 

Nutmeg and a little grated lemon-peel. 

Pare, core and slice the apples, and stew in a covered 
farina-kettle, without a drop of water, until they are 
tender. Mash to a smooth pulp, and, while hot, stir in 
butter and sugar. Let it get quite cold, and whip in, 
first the yolks of the eggs, then the | Witenes 
very stiff—alternately with the bread. crumbs. Flavor, 
beat hard three minutes, until all the ingredients are 
reduced to a creamy pation! and bake in a buttered 
dish, in a moderate oven. It will take about an hour 


= a a oe Te 


PUDDINGS. 281 


to cook it properly. Keep it covered until ten min- 

utes before you take it out. This will retain the 

juices and prevent the formation of a crust on the top. 
Eat warm with “ bee-hive sauce.” 


Rick Sourri£é Punppine. f« 


% cup raw rice. 

1 pint of milk. 

6 eggs. 

4 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

Soak the rice in warm water enough to cover it 
well for two hours. Put it over the fire in the same 
water, and simmer in a farina-kettle until the rice is 
dry. Add the milk, shaking up the rice—no¢ stirring 
‘it—and cook slowly, covered, until tender throughout. 
Stir in the butter, then the yolks of the eggs, beaten 
and strained, whatever flavoring you may desire, and 
when these have cooled somewhat, the whipped whites. 
Bake in a handsome pudding-dish, well buttered half 
an hour. 

Eat warm—not hot—.or very cold. 


Arrowroor SourrL& Pupprina. 


3 cups of milk. 

5 egos. 

1 large table-spoonful butter. 

3 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

4 table-spoonfuls Bermuda arrowroot, wet wp with 
cold milk. 

Vanilla or other flavoring. : 

Heat the milk to a boil, and stir into this the arrow 


282 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


root. Simmer, using your spoon freely all the time, 
until it thickens up well. Put in the butter; take 
from the fire and beat into it the yolks and sugar, pre- 
viously whipped together. Stir hard and put in the 
whites, whisked very stiff, and the flavoring. 

Butter a neat baking-dish ; put in the mixture and 
bake half an hour. 

Sift powdered sugar over it, and serve immediately. 


A very Deuicatse SourrieE. 


5 eges—whites and yolks beaten separately. 

2 table-spoonfuls of arrowroot wet up in 4 table- 
spoonfuls cold water. 

4. table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

Rose-water flavoring. 


Beat the sugar into the whipped yolks, and into the. 


whites, little by little, the dissolved arrowroot. Flavor 
and whisk all together. Butter a neat mould, pour in 
the mixture until half way to the top, and bake half 
an hour. 

If quite firm, and if you have a steady hand, you 
may turn it out upon a hot dish. It then makes a 
handsome show. It is safer to leave it in the baking- 
dish. It must be served at once. It is very nice. 


Barrer Puppine. (Very nice.) 


1 quart of milk., 

16 table-spoonfuls of flour. 

4 eves beaten very light. Salt to taste. 

Stir until the batter is free from lumps, and bake in 
two buttered pie plates, or very shallow puddine- 
dishes. 


oe oe Oe oe 


PUDDINGS. 283 


Apple AND Batter Pouppina. (Very good.) fa 


1 pint of milk. 

2 eggs, beaten light. 

1 dessert-spoonful butter, rubbed in the flour. 

+ teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in hot water. 

% teaspoonful of cream of tartar, sifted in the flour. 

A pinch of salt. 

Flour enough for thin batter. 

6 apples—well flavored and slightly tart. 

Pare and core the apples and put them in a buttered 
pudding-dish. Pour the batter over them and bake 
three-quarters of an hour. Eat hot with hard sauce. 


PuppDING-DISHES. 


The baking-dish of “ye olden time” was never 
comely; often positively unsightly. Dainty house- 
wives pinned napkins around them and wreathed them 
with flowers to make them less of an eyesore. In this 
day, the pudding-maker can combine the esthetic and 
useful by using the enameled wares of Mussrs. 
LaLaANneE AND GRosseAN, 89 BurxMan Srreer, New 
Yorx. The pudding-dishes made by them are pretty 
in themselves, easily kept clean; do not crack or 
blacken under heat, and are set on the table in hand- 
some stands of plated silver that completely conceal 
the baking-dish. A silver rim runs around the top and 
hides even the edge of the bowl. They can be had, 
with or without covers, and are invaluable for maca- 
roni, scallops, and many other “baked meats.” Sance- 
pans and kettles of every kind are made in the same 
ware by this firm. 


284 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


FRITTERS. 


Not even so-called pastry is more ruthlessly mur. 
dered in the mixing and baking than that class of 
desserts the generic name of which stands at the head 
of this bake. Heavy, sour, sticky and oleaginous 
beyond civilized comparison, it is no marvel that the 
compound popularly known and eaten as “ fritter ” has 
become a doubtful dainty in the esteem of many, the 
object of positive loathing to some. 

I do not recommend my fritters to dyspeptics and 
babies, nor as a standing dish to anybody. But that 
they can be made toothsome, spongy and harmless, as 
well as pleasant to those blessed with healthy appetites 
and unimpaired digestions, I hold firmly and intelli- 
gently. 

Two or three conditions are requisite to this end. 
The fritters must be quickly made, thoroughly beaten, 
of right consistency,—and they must not lie in the fat 
the fraction of a minute after they are done. Take 
them up with a perforated spoon, or egg-beater, and 
lay on a hot sieve or cullender to drain before serving 
on the dish that is to take them to the table. More- 
over, the fat must be hissing hot when the batter goes 
in if you would not have them grease-soaked to the 
very heart. Line the dish in which they are served 
with tissue-paper fringed at the ends, or a clean nap- 
kin to absorb any lingering drops of lard. 


Betu Frirrers. >\« 
2 cups of milk. 
2 cups of prepared 





FRITTERS. 285 


8 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

4 egos, very well beaten. 

A little salt. 

% tea-spoonful of cinnamon. 

Beat the sugar into the yolks; add the milk, salt 
and seasoning, the flour and whites alternately. Beat 
hard for three minutes. 

Have ready plenty of lard in a deep frying-pan or 
Scotch kettle; make very hot; drop in the batter in 
table-spoonfuls, and fry to a good brown. Be careful 
not to scorch the lard, or the fritters will be ruined in 
taste and color. 

Throw upon a warm sieve or cullender as fast as 
they are fried, and sift powdered sugar over them. 

Eat hot with lemon sauce. 


Rusk Frirrers. >} 


12 stale rusks. 

5 egos. 

4 table-spoonfuls white sugar. 

2 glasses best sherry. 

Pare all the crust from the rusk, and cut each into 
two pieces if small—into three if large. The slices 
should be nearly an inch thick. Pour the wine over 
them; leave them in it two or three minutes, then lay 
on a sieve to drain. Beat the sugar into the yolks 
(which should first be whipped and strained), then the 
whites. Dip each slice into this mixture and fry in 
boiling lard to a light golden brown. 

Drain well; sprinkle with powdered sugar mingled 
with cinnamon, and serve hot, with or without sauce. 


286 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Liaut F RIrrers. 


3 cups stale bread-crumbs. 

1 quart of milk. 

4 egos. 

Salt and nutmeg to taste. 

8 table-spoonfuls prepared flour. 

Scald the milk and pour it over the crumbs. Stir 
to a smooth, soft batter, add the yolks, whipped and 
strained, the seasoning, the flour—then, the whites 
whisked very stiff. Mix well, and fry, by the table- 
spoonful, in boiling lard. Drain; serve hot and eat 
with sweet sauce. 


Currant Frirrers. (Very nice.) 


2 cups dry, fine bread-crumbs. 

2 table-spoonfuls prepared flour. 

2 cups of milk. 

4 pound currants, washed and well dried. 

5 eggs whipped very light, and the yolks strained. 

4 cup powdered sugar. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

% teaspoonful mixed cinnamon and nutmeg. 

Boil the milk and pour over the bread. Mix and 
putin the butter. Let it get cold. Beat in, next, the 
yolks and sugar, the seasoning, flour and stiff whites ; 
finally, the currants dredged whitely with flour. The 
batter should be thick. 

Drop in great spoonfuls into the hot lard and fry. 
Drain them and send hot to table. 

Kat with a mixture of wine and powdered sugar. 





Pee a ee 





a 


FRITTERS. 287 


Lemon F rrrrers. pf 

2 heaping cups of prepared flour. 

5 eggs—hbeaten stiff. Strain the yolks. 

% cup cream. 

Grated peel of half a lemon. 

4 cup powdered sugar. 

1 teaspoonful mingled nutmeg and cinnamon. 

A. little salt. 

Beat up the whipped and strained yolks with the 
sugar; add the seasoning and cream; the whites, at 
last the flour, worked in quickly and lightly. It 
should be a soft paste, just stiff enough to roll ont. 
Pass the rolling-pin once or twice over it until it is 
about three-quarters of an inch thick. Cut into small, 
circular cakes with a tumbler or cake-cutter; drop 
into the hot lard and fry. They ought to puff up like 
erullers. Drain on clean, hot paper. Eat warm with ~ 
a sauce made of— 

Juice of 2 lemons. 

Grated peel of one. 

1 cup of powdered sugar. 

1 glass wine. 

Whites of 2 eggs beaten stiff. 


Apple FRITTERS. 


8 or 10 fine pippins or greenings. 
Juice of 1 lemon. 

8 cups prepared flour. 

6 eggs. 

3 cups milk. 

Some powdered sugar. 


288 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Cinnamon and nutmeg. 

A little salt. 

Pare and core the apples neatly, leaving a hole in 
the centre of each. Cut crosswise into slices half an 
inch thick. Spread these on a dish and sprinkle with 
lemon-juice and powdered sugar. 

Beat the eggs light, straining the yolks, and add to 
the latter the milk and salt, the whites and the flour, 
by turns. Dip the slices of apple into the batter, 
turning them until they are thoroughly coated, and fry, 
a few at a time, in hot lard. Throw upon a warm sieve 
as fast as you take them out, and sift powdered sugar, 
cinnamon and nutmeg over them. 

These fritters require dexterous handling, but if 
properly made and cooked, are delicious. 

Eat with wine sauce. 


Rice Frirrers. >} 


2 cups of milk. 

Nearly a cup raw rice. 

8 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

4+ pound raisins. 

3 eggs. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

1 table-spoonful flour. 

Nutmeg and salt. 

Soak the rice three hours in enough warm water to 
cover it well. At the end of this time, put it into a 
farina-kettle, set in an outer vessel of hot water, and 
simmer until dry. Add the milk and cook until it is 
all absorbed. Stir in the butterand take from the fire. 
Beat the eggs very light with the sugar, and when the 





J 
3 


FRITTERS. 289 


rice has cooled, stir these in with the flour and season- 
ing. Flour your hands well and make this into flat 
cakes. Place in the middle of each two or three raisins 
which have been “plumped” in boiling water. Roll 
the cake into a ball enclosing the raisins, flour well and 
fry in plenty of hot lard. 
Serve on a napkin, with sugar and cinnamon sifted 
over them. Eat with sweetened cream, hot or cold. 


Corn-Mrau F Rirrers. 


83 cups milk. 

2 cups best Indian meal. 

$ cup flour. 

4 eggs. 

4 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

1 teaspoonful cream of tartar, sifted in flour. 

1 table-spoonful sugar. 

1 table-spoonful melted butter. 

1 teaspoonful salt. 

Beat and strain the yolks; add sugar, butter, milk 
and salt, the soda-water, and then stir in the Indian 
meal. eat five minutes Aard before adding the 
whites. The flour, containing the cream of tartar, 
should go in last. Again, beat up vigorously. The 
batter should be just thick enough to drop readily 
from the spoon. Put into boiling lard by the spoonful, 
One or two experiments as to the quantity to be 
dropped for one fritter will teach you to regulate size 
and shape. 

Drain very well and serve at once. Eat witha sauce 
made of butter and sugar, seasoned with cinnamon. 


Some persons like a suspicion of ginger mixed in the 
13 


290 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


fritters, or in the sauce. You can add or withhold it 
as you please. 


Praca Frrrrers. (With Yeast.) 


1 quart of flour. 

1 cup of milk. 

% cup of yeast. 

2 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

4 egos. 

2 table-spoonfuls of butter. 

A. little salt. 

Some fine, ripe freestone peaches, pared and stoned. 

Sift the flour into a bowl; work in milk and yeast. 
and set it in a tolerably warm place to rise. This will 
take five or six hours. Then beat the eggs very light 
with sugar, butter and salt. Mix this with the risen 
dough, and beat with a stout wooden spoon until all 
the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated. Knead 
vigorously with your hands; pull off bits about the 
size of an egg; flatten each and put in the centre a 
peach, from which the stone has been taken through a 
slit in the side. Close the dough upon it, make into a 
round roll and set in order upon a floured pan for the 
second rising. The balls must not touch one another. 
They should be light in an hour. Have ready a large 
round-bottomed Scotch kettle or saucepan, with plenty 
of lard—boiling hot. Drop in yonr peach-pellets and 
fry more slowly than you would fritters made in the 
usual way. Drain on hot white paper; sift powdered 
sugar over them and eat hot with brandy sauce. 

You can make these of canned peaches or apricots’ 
wiped dry from the syrup. 





FRITTERS. 991 


Poraro Frrrrers. 

6 table-spoonfuls mashed potato—very fine. 

4 cup good cream. 

5 egos—the yolks light and strained—the whites 
whisked very stiff. 

2 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

2 table-spoonfuls prepared flour. 

Juice of 1 lemon. Half the grated peel. 

4 teaspoonful nutmeg. 

Work the cream into the potato; beat up light and 
rub through a sieve, or very fine cullender. Add to 
this the beaten yoiks and sugar. Whip to a creamy 
froth ; put in the lemon, flour, nutmeg, and beat. five 
minutes longer before the whites are stirred in. Have 
your lard ready and hot in the frying-pan. Drop in 
the batter by the spoonful and fry to a light brown. 
Drain on clean paper, and serve at once. 

Eat with wine sauce. 


Cream Frirrers. ( Very nice.) 


1 cup cream. 

5 egoes—the whites only. 

2 full cups prepared flour. 

1 salt-spoonful nutmeg. 

A pinch of salt. 

Stir the whites into the cream in turn with the flour, 
put in nutmeg and salt, beat all up hard for two 
minutes. The batter should be rather thick. Fry in 
plenty of hot sweet lard, a spoonful of batter for each 
fritter. Drain and serve upon a hot, clean napkin. 

Eat with jelly sauce. Pull, not cut them open. 


: 


292 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Rott Frrrrers, or Imrration Doueunouts. >\ 





8 small round rolls, stale and light. 

1 cup rich milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls sugar. 

1 teaspoonful mixed nutmeg and cinnamon. 

Beaten yolks of 3 eggs 

1 cupful powdered cor 

Pare every bit of the crust from the rolls me a keen 
knife, and trim them into round balls. Sweeten the 
milk mak the sugar, put in the spice; lay the rolls up- 
on a soup-plate, and pour the milk over them. Turn 
them over and over, until they soak it all up. Drain 
for a few minutes on a sieve; dip in the beaten yolks, 
roll in the powdered cracker, and fry in plenty of lard. 

Drain and serve hot with lemon-sauce. 

They are very good. 


SponaE-Caxe FRITTERS. - 


6 or 8 square (penny) sponge-cakes. 

1 cup cream, boiling hot, with a pinch of soda 
stirred in. 

4 egos, whipped light. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch, wet up in cold milk. 

4% pound currants, washed and dried. 

Pound the cakes She and pour the cream over them. 
Stir in the corn-starch. Cover for half an hour, then 
beat until cold. Add the yolks—light and strained, 
the whipped whites, then the currants thickly dredged 
with flour. Beat all hard together. Drop in spoonfuls — 
into the boiling lard; fry quickly; drain upon a — 
warmed sieve, and send to table hot. 





FRITTERS. 293 


The syrup of brandied fruit makes an excellent 
sauce for these. 


Curp FRIrrTEeRs. 


1 quart sweet milk. 

2 glasses white wine. 

1 teaspoonful liquid rennet. 

5 eggs, whipped light. 

4 table-spoonfuls prepared flour. 

2 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

Nutmeg to taste. 

Scald the milk, and pour in the wine and rennet. 
Take from the fire, cover, and let it stand until curd 
and whey are well separated. Drain off every drop of 
the latter,and dry the curd by laying for a few 
minutes upon a soft, clean cloth. Beat yolks and sugar 
together, whip in the curd until fully mixed; then the 
flour, nutmeg and whites. The batter should be 
smooth, and rather thick. 

Have ready some butter in a small frying-pan ; drop 
in the fritters a few at a time, and fry quickly. Drain 
upon a warm sieve, lay within a dish lined with white 
paper, or a clean napkin; sift powdered sugar over 
them, and eat with jelly sauce. 

Odd as the receipt may seem in the reading, the 
fritters are most palatable. Inthe country, where milk 
is plenty, they may be made of cream—unless, as is 
too often the case, the goodwife wed/ save all the cream 
for butter, 





CONCERNING ALLOWANCES. 


(CoNFIDENTIAL—WITH JOHN.) 


I po not like that word “ allowance.” It savors too 
much of a stipend granted by a lordling to a serf; a 
government pension to a beneficiary; the dole of the 
rich to the poor. But since it has crept into general 
use as descriptive of that portion of the wife’s earn- 
ings which she is permitted to disburse more or less at 
her discretion, we must take it as we find it. 

Marriage is to a woman one of two things—licensed, 
and therefore honorable beggary, or, a copartnership 
with her husband upon fair and distinctly specified 
terms. When I spoke of the wife’s earnings just now, 
it was not with reference to moneys accumulated by 
work or investments outside of the home which she 
occupies with you and your children. We will set 
aside, if you please, the legal and religious fiction that 
you have endowed her with all—or half your worldly 
goods, and put still further from our consideration the 
sounding oaths with which you protested in the days of 
your wooing, that you cared nothing for pelf and lucre 
—Cupid’s terms for stocks, bonds and mortgages, houses 
and lands—except that you might cast them at her feet. 
If you recollect such figures of speech at all, it is with 
a laugh, good-humored, or shame-faced, and the plea 
that everybody talks in the same way in like circum- 
stances; that pledges thus given are in no wise to be 





CONCERNING ALLOWANCES. 295 


regarded as promissory notes. Hymen’s is a general 
court of bankruptcy so far as such obligations go. 
Your wife is a sensible woman, and never expected to 
take you at your word—at least, such hot and hasty 
words as those, in which you declared yourself to be 
the most abject of her slaves, and herself the empress 
of your universe, including the aforementioned stocks, 
mortgages, houses and lands, real and personal estate— 
all assets an esse and in posse. 

Having cleared away, by a stroke of common sense, 
this gossamer, that like other cobwebs, is pretty while 
the dew of early morning impearls it, and only an an- 
noyance afterward; particularly odious when it en- 
tangles itself about the lips and eyes of him who lately 
admired it—we will look at the question of the wife’s 
work and wages from a business point of view——pencil 
and paper in hand. | | 

First, we will determine what should be the salary 
of a competent housekeeper; one who makes her em- 
ployer’s interests her own; who rises up early and lies 
down late, and eats the bread of carefulness; -who is 
not to be coaxed away by higher wages, and is never in 
danger of giving warning if her “feelings are hurt ;” 
if the servants are insubordinate, or the master is given 
to fault-finding, and not always respectful to herself. 
It wouid be to your interest, were you a widower, you 
confess, to give this treasure two dollars a day—as 
women’s wages go. “And,” you add in a burst of 
manly confidence, “she would be cheap at that.” But 
we will put down her salary in round numbers, at $700 
per annum. : 

Now comes the seamstress’ pay. Again, a “ compe: 


296 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


tent person,’ one who is ever in her place; whose 
work-hours number fourteen out of the twenty-four, if 
her services are required by you or the children; 
whose needle is always threaded, her eye ever vigilant ; 
with whom slighting and botching are things unknown 
by practice ; who takes pride in seeing each of the 
household trig and tidy; who “seeketh wool and flax, 
and worketh willingly with her hands ;” who is an adept 
in fine needlework as in plain sewing, and not a novice 
in dress-making ; who, perchance, can “ manage” boys’ 
clothes as well as girls—who will do it, of a cer tainty, 
if you explain that you cannot aftord allots bills to 
urchins under ten years of age; finally, who possesses 
that most valuable of arts for a poor man’s wife, 


‘* To gar auld claes look a’maist as weel as new.” 


Shall we allow to this nonpareil the wages of an or- 
dinary seamstress who “ cannot undertake cutting and 
fitting,’—one dollar a day? Or, is she entitled to the 
pay of a dressmaker’s assistant——half a dollar more? I 
do not want to be hard with you. We will set her down 
for $450 a year. And, again, we conclude that you 
have made a good bargain. 

Next, the nursery-governess, and perhaps the most 
important functionary in the household. She must, 
you stipulate, have charge of the children, by day and 
night; guard morals, health and manners, besides 
teaching the youngerlings the rudiments of reading 
and ee ; must superintend the preparation of the 
elder ones’ lessons for school-recitations, and look to it 
that catechism and Bible-lesson are ready for Sabbath- 
school ; that musical exercises are duly practised ; that 





| line ee als 


CONCERNING ALLOWANCES. 297 


home is made so attractive to the boys that they shall 
not be drawn thence by the questionable hilarity of 
engine-house and oyster-cellar. A lady she must be, 
else how would your girls be trained to modest and 
graceful behavior, and your friends be entertained as 
you deem is due to you and to them, in your house ? 
A responsible, judicious person is indispensable to the 
comfort and health of you and yours; one who does 
not regard the care of a young baby as “ too confin- 
ing;” nor sleepless nights on account of it, a valid 
reason for “ bettering herself ;” nor a brisk succession 
of measles, mumps and chicken-pox cogent cause for 
informing you that she “didn’t engage for this sort of 
work, and would you be suiting yourself with a lady 
as has a stronger constitution—immediate, for her 
trunk is packed.” 

Would a thousand dollars per annum provide you 
with such a hireling? I knew a wealthy man who of- 
fered just that sum for a nursery-governess during the 
protracted illness of his wife. She must be intelligent 
and ladylike, he stated, qualified to undertake the edu- 
cation of the three younger children. There were six 
in all, but there was a tutor for the boys. The gov- 
erness’ bed-room adjoined that of the little girls, the 
door of which must stand open all night. The baby’s 
crib was to be by her bed, and a child, three years old, 
was also to share her chamber. She would be treated 
respectfully and kindly, and every enjoyment of the 
luxurious establishment, compatible with the proper 
discharge of the duties appointed, would be hers. 

He could get no one to take the place. 
This is simple fact, and it is pregnant with meaning. 
13 


- 


298 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


Nevertheless, what if we put down the wages of 
your nursery-governess at the same sum you are will- 
ing to give your housekeeper—$700% Oblige me by 
adding up the short row of figures under your hand. 


8700 
450 
700 





$1,850 


This you will please consider as the amount of your 
wife’s salary, due from you for services rendered, ex- 
clusive of board and lodgings, which are always the 
portion of resident employees in your house. There 
is no charge for “extras,” you observe. We have said 
nothing about the bill for nursing you through that 
four weeks’ spell of inflammatory rheumatism last 
winter, or the longer siege of fever, three years ago, 
when this servant-of-all-work sat up with you fourteen 
weary nights, and would entrust the care of you to no 
one else. By her skillful ministrations, the miracle of 
her patience, love and prayers, you were rescued, say 
the doctors, from the close clutch of death. You can- 
not see the figures very distinctly while you think of 
it, hut we agreed, at the outset, to keep feeling in the 
background. 

You “have tried to be a kind, affectionate husband,” 
you say, in a very unbusiness-like way. 

I believe you, and so does the blessed little woman 
whom I have shut out from this conference, lest her 
foolish fondness should spoil the effect of our matter- 
of-fact talk. I would have you and all husbands be 


Wi 


CONCERNING ALLOWANCES. 299 


just, no less than loving. Let us return to our figures. 
The estimate is for a man of moderate means and 
modest home, one of the middle-class which is every- 
where the bone and muscle of the community——the 
class that makes national character, the world over. 
If you are wealthy, and put the care of a large and 
elegant establishment upon your manager, the remu- 
neration should be in proportion. For a fancy article 
you have to pay a fancy price. You misunderstand 
your wife and me, if you imagine that we would in- 
augurate in your household a debit and credit system 
and quarter-day settlements. She would be the first 
to shrink from such an interpretation of your mutual 
relations. JI should, of all your friends and well- 
wishers, be the last to recommend it. 

But I have studied this matter long and seriously, 
and I offer you as the result of my observation in va- 
rious walks of life, and careful calculation of labor 
and expense, the bold assertion that every wife who 
performs her part, even tolerably well, in whatever 
rank of society, more than earns her living, and that 
this should be an acknowledged fact with both parties 
to the marriage contract. The idea of her dependence 
upon her husband is essentially false and mischievous, 
and should be done away with, at once and forever, 
It has crushed self-respect out of thousands of women ; 
it has scourged thousands from the marriage-altar to 
the tomb, with a whip of scorpions; it has driven 
many to desperation and crime. 

“Every dollar is a lash!” I once overheard a wife 
say, in bitter soliloquy, as her husband left her pres- 
ence after placing in her hand the money for which 


300 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


she had timidly asked him, to pay the weekly house- 
hold bills. 

Then, still supposing herself unseen, she threw the 
roll of bank-notes upon the floor and trampled it 
under foot, in a transport of impotent, and, to my way 
of thinking, righteous wrath. 

“An exceptional case?” I beg your pardon! I 
wish it were. Her husband meant to be kind and af- 
fectionate as honestly as do you. When money was 
“easy,” he would give it to her freely and cheerfully, 
provided. his mood was propitious at the time of her 
application. He had expended large sums in the pur- 
chase of jewelry and handsome clothing for her, and 
exulted in seeing her arrayed in them. He loved her 
truly, and was proud of her. His mistake was in ig- 
noring the fact that he owed her anything in actual 
dollars and cents; that she worked for her livelihood 
as faithfully as did he, and that his debt to her was, in 
the highest degree, a “confidential” one. If put into 
the confessional, he would have admitted that he 
thought of himself as the only bread-winner of the 
family, and was, sometimes, tartly intolerant of the 
domestic demands upon his earnings. He made a yet 
grosser mistake in feeling and behaving as if the 
money deposited in her hands for the current expenses 
of the establishment, were a gift to her personally. 
This is a masculine blunder that poisons the happiness 
of more women than I like to think of, or you would 
be willing to believe. Be kindly-affectioned as you 
will, your wife cannot respect you thoroughly if she 
sees that you are habitually unreasonable and unjust. 
And it is neither just nor rational to speak and act as 








: 
| 


CONCERNING ALLOWANOES. 301 


if all the butter, flour, sugar, meat and sundries which 
she saves you the trouble of buying, and of which, 
nine times out of ten, she is the more judicious pur- 
chaser, were to be consumed by her, and her alone. 

“You never thought of such a thing!” you protest 
betwixt laughter and vexation. 

Then, do not act as if it were your settled con- 
- viction. 

Set aside from your income what you adjudge to be 
a reasonable and liberal sum for the maintenance of 
your family in the style suitable for people of your 
means and position. »Determine what purchases you 
will yourself make, and what shall be intrusted to 
your wife, and put the money needed for her propor- 
tion into her care as frankly as you take charge of 
your share. Try the experiment of talking to her as 
if she were a business partner. . Let her understand 
what you can afford to do, and what you cannot. If 
in this explanation you can say, “we,” and “ours,” 
you will gain a decided moral advantage, although it 
may be at the cost of masculine prejudice and pride 
of power. Impress upon her mind that a certain sum, 
made over to her apart from the rest, is hers absolutely. 
Not a present from you, but her honest earnings, and 
that yow would not be honest were you to withhold it. 
And do not ask her “if that will do?” any more than 
you would address the question to any other work- 
woman. (With what cordial detestation wives regard 
that brief query, which drops, like a sentence of the 
creed, from husbandly lips, I leave your spouse to tell 
you. Also, if she ever heard of a woman who an- 
swered anything but “ yes.”’) 


d02 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Advise her, for her own satisfaction, and because itis 
“business like,” to keep an account of her receipts and 
expenditures, but apprise her distinctly that you do 
not expect her to exhibit this to you, unless she should 
need your assistance or advice in balancing her books, 
or in some perplexed question of “ profit and loss.” 
She will be ready to appreciate that the one sum de- 
posited with her is a trust fund to be used to the besé 
advantage for the general good, and the proud con- 
sciousness that she is the actual proprietor of the other, 
and irresponsible, save to her conscience, for the man- 
ner in which it is spent, will make her the more care- 
ful not to use it amiss. As to the housekeeping money 
—the weekly or monthly “allowance”—you may be 
very sure that you and the children will get the benefit 
of every cent. However economically she may handle 
her private store, the bulk of it will not be increased by 
surreptitious pinchings from the family supply of daily 
bread. 

I have known women whose sole perquisites were 
what they could save from their not large allowances, 
who, in the absence of their husbands from home, 
would keep themselves and families of hungry, growing 
children,—with the consent and co-operation of the 
latter—-upon the most meagre fare consistent with the 
bare satisfaction of the cravings of nature, that the 
few dollars thus spared might go toward the purchase 
of some coveted article of dress for one of the girls; 
a set of tools or books for a boy, or a piece of furni- 
ture desired by all. Which bit of economy (!) being 
reported to the paterfamilias when the dearly-bought 
thing was exhibited, was pronounced by him, his hand 





CONCERNING ALLOWANCES. 803 


complacently finding its way to the plethoric wallet in 
his pocket, to be worthy of his august approval. How 
many husbands have heard their wives remark how 
cheaply the family lived when “papa was away?” and 
how many have asked themselves seriously why and 
how this was done ? 

Other women, and more to be pitied, I am ac- 
quainted with, who make false entries in the account- 
books, which are showed weekly to their lords as ex- 
planatory of “the way the money goes.” It is easier 
and less likely “to make a fuss,” to record that seven 
pounds of butter have been bought and used, his lord- 
ship having helped in the consumption thereof, when 
by sharp management, five have sufliced; to write 
down “new shoes for Bobby, $4,00,” when, in reality, 
the cost of mending his old ones that they might last a 
month longer, was only $1,50,—than to confess to the 
practical critic who does not overlook a single item, 
that the money “made” by these expedients was 
spent, partly in paying up a yearly subscription to the 
‘Charitable Society; partly for an innocent luncheon | 
during a day’s shopping in the city. 

“Unjustifiable deception?” Have I pretended to 
excuse it? But I look back of the timid woman—the 
pauper, bedecked in silks, laces and gems,—for most 
men like to see their wives dressed as well as their 
neighbors—the moral coward, who has lied from the 
natural desire to handle a little money for herself 
without being cross-examined about it--and ask—“ by 
what stress of humiliating tyranny was she brought to 
this?” 

All women do not manage monetary affairs well, 


304 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


you remind me, gently. Some are unprincipled in 
their extravagance, reckless of everything save their 
own whims and unconscionable desires. Must a man 
beggar himself and those dependent upon him, lest 
such an one should aceuse him of parsimony? By 
yielding to demands he knows to be exorbitant, he 
proves himself to be weaker even than she. 

I have said nowhere that a woman is the best judge 
of what her husband ought to appropriate from his 
gains or fortune for the support of his family. But 
he stands convicted of a grave error of judgment, if he 
has chosen from the whole world as the keeper of his 
honor and happiness, a woman whom he cannot trust to 
touch his purse-strings. 

Let us be patient as well as reasonable. So long asa 
babe is kept in long clothes, and carried in arms, it will 
not learn to walk alone. The majority of women have 
been swathed in conventionalities and borne above the | 
practicalities of business by mistaken tenderness or mis- 
apprehension of their powers, for so long, that, how- 
ever quick may be their intuitions, time and practice 
are necessary to make them adepts in financiering. The 
best way to render them trustworthy is not by taking 
it for granted, and letting them see that you do, that 
they have sinister designs upon your pockets. They are 
not pirates by nature, nor are they, even with such 
schouling as many get from their legal proprietors, 
always on the alert to wheedle or extort a few dollars for 
their own sly and selfish ends. After all, is there nota 
spice of truth in the would-be satire of the old distich ? 


‘‘ What are wives made of—made of ? ‘ 
Everything good, if they're but understood /” 





CONCERNING ALLOWANCES. 305 


If you chance to be painfully conscions of the men- 
tal inferiority and warped conscience of your partner 
in the solemn dance of life ; if there is more “ worse ” 
than “better” in the everyday wear of the matrimo- 
nial bond; if sloth and waste mark her administratior 
of household affairs, instead of the industrious thrift 
you would recommend, and which you see others prac- 
tise; if the rent in the bottom of the pouch carries off 
the money faster than you can drop it in, you are to 
be pitied almost as much as your bachelor neighbor, 
who sews on his own buttons, and depends upon board- 
ing-houses for his daily food. Still, my friend, is 
there any reason why you should accept the conse- 
quences of this one mistake on your part, with less 
philosophy ; bring to the bearing of it a smaller modi- 
cum of Christian resignation than you summon to sup- 
port you under any other? Women have been as 
grievously misled by fancy or affection, before now, 
and have borne the burden of disappointment to the 
grave without murmur or reproach. 

Then, there is always the chance that your wife is 
not “ understood,” or that, well-meant as your attempts 
to “manage” her have been, you have not selected 
the most judicious methods of doing this. In this en- 
lightened and liberal age, nobody, unless he be bigot 
or fool, habitually thinks and speaks of women as a 
lower order of intelligent beings. But even in your 
breast, my ill-mated friend, there may lurk a touch of 
the ancient leaven of uncharitableness, and in your 
treatment of her “ whom the Lord hath given to be with 
you,” there may be aspice of arrogance, the exponent of 
which, were you Turk or Kaffir, would be brute force. 


306 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


“T do not object to your proposal, my love. You 
alivays have your own way in household affairs,” said 
a very “kind and affectionate” man to his wife, with 
the air of a potentate amiably relinquishing his sceptre 
for love’s sake. 

“Will you tell me, my dear husband, why, if i 
conduct ‘household affairs’ wisely and pleasantly (and 
you have often acknowledged that I do!) I should 
not have my own way?” was the unexpected reply, 
uttered in perfect temper—no less sweetly for being an 
argument. “Tor twenty years I have made domestic 
economy a constant and practical study. Is it reason- 
able to suppose that, after all this expenditure of time 
and thought, I am not a better judge of ways and 
means in my profession than are you, whose life has 
been spent in other pursuits? For all your indulgent 
affection to me, as displayed in a thousand ways since 
our marriage-day, I love and thank you. But excuse me 
for saying that I am not grateful that you have, as you 
are rather fond of saying, ‘made it a point to give me 
my head’ in all pertaining to housekeeping. That 
you do this shows that you are just and honorable. It 
is no more a favor done to me than is my non-interfe- 
rence with your clerks and purchases, your shipments 
and warehouses, a matter for which you should thank 
me.” 

~The husband stroked his beard thoughtfully. He 
was a sensible man, and magnaminous enough to rec- 
ognize the truth that his wife was a sensible woman. 

“Upon my word,” he said, presently, with a frank 
laugh, “that is a view of the case I never took before. 
I believe you are right.” 





CONCERNING ALLOWANCES. 307 


One more hint, which may be of service to those who 
are not so ready to acknowledge the superiority—in 
any case—of feminine reasoning, or to such as are 
not blessed with sensible consorts—the best friends of 
these ladies being judges. 

“Drive him with an easy rein!” said my John in 
trusting me for the first time to manage his favorite 
horse. “ His mouth is tender as a woman’s. You can- 
not deal with a thoroughbred as with a cold-blooded 
roadster.” 

“What will happen if I hold him in hard?” in- 
quired I, eyeing the pointed ears and arched neck 
with as much apprehension as admiration. 

I commend the laconic answer to your consideration, 
as altogether pertinent to the subject we have been 
discussing. 

“A yrear-up, and a run backward, instead of for- 
ward |” 


RIPE. FRUIG. 


Tur sight of the fruit-dish or basket upon the break- 
fast table has become so common of late years that 
its absence, rather than its presence, in the season of 
ripe fruits would be remarked, and felt even painfully 
by some. It is fashionable, and therefore considered a 
wise sanitary measure, to eat oranges as a prelude to 
the regular business of the morning meal. Grapes are 
eaten so long as they can be conveniently obtained. It 
may be because my own taste and digestion revolt at 
the practice of forcing crude acids upon an empty, and 
often faint stomach, that I am disposed to doubt the 
healthfulness of the innovation upon the long-estab- 
lished rule that sets fruit always in the place of dessert. 
I have an actual antipathy to the pungent odor of raw 
orange-peel, and have been driven from the breakfast- 
table at a hotel more than once by the overpowering 
effect of the piles of yellow rind at my left, right, and 
opposite to me. <A cluster of grapes taken before 
breakfast would put me, and others whom I know, 
hors de combat for the day with severe headache. In 
the consciousness of this, I can be courageous in de- 
clining the “ first course” of an @ la mode breakfast, 
and at my own table, withholding the fruit until the 
stomach has regained its normal tone under the judi- 
cious application of substantial viands. Then, it is 





RIPE FRUIT. 309 


pleasant to linger over the vinous globes of crimson, 
purple, and pale-green; to dip ripe strawberries in 
powdered sugar with lazy gusto; to pare rosy rareripes 
and golden Bartletts while discussing the,day’s news 
and plans, in the serene belief that the healthful, de- 
licious juices are assimilating whatever incongruous 
elements have preceded them in the alimentary canal. 

I write this, not to guide the practice of other house- 
holds, but to enforce a remark I see an opportunity for 
bringing in here. Be a slavish follower of no custom 
whatsoever. It is sensible and expedient to act in 
uniformity with your neighbors when you can do so 
without moral or physical injury. Conformity to a 
foolish or hurtful fashion is always weak, if not posi- 
tively wicked. 

Serve your fruit, then, as the first or last course at 
your family breakfast as may seem right to yourself, 
but, by all means, have it whenever you can procure it 
comfortably and without much expense. In warm 
weather, you had better banish meat from the morning 
bill of fare, three days in the week, than have the 
children go without berries and other fresh fruits. 
Make a pretty glass dish, or silver or wicker basket of 
peaches, pears or plums, an institution of the summer 
breakfast. In autumn, you can have grapes until after 
frost; then, oranges and bananas if you desire. These, 
being expensive luxuries, are not absolutely enjoined 
by nature or common sense. Let the “ basket of sum- 
mer fruit,” however, be a comely and agreeable reality 
while solstitial suns beget bile, and miasma walks, a 
living, almost visible presence, through the land. 

Fruits, each in its season, are the cheapest, most 


310 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


elegant and wholesome dessert you can offer your 
family or friends, at luncheon or tea. Pastry and 
plum-pudding should be prohibited by law, from the 
beginning of June until the end of September. And 
in winter, a dish of apples and oranges flanked by one 
of boiled chestnuts, and another of picked walnut or 
hickory-nut kernels, will often please John and the 
bairns better than the rich dessert that cost you a hot 
hour over the kitchen-range, when Bridget was called 
away to a cousin’s funeral, or Daphne was laid up 
with “a misery in her head.” 

Among the creams, jellies and “forms” of a state- 
dinner dessert, fruit is indispensable, and the arrange- 
ment and preparation of the choicer varieties is a mat- 
ter for the taste and skill of the mistress, or her refined 
daughters, as are the floral decorations of the feast. 


) 


Frosrep PEACHES. 


12 large rich peaches—freestones. 

Whites of three egos, whisked to a standing froth. 

2 table-spoonfuls water. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

Put water and beaten whites together; dip in each — 
peach when you have rubbed off the fur with a clean 
cloth, and then roll in powdered sugar. Set up care- 
fully, on the stem end, upon a sheet of white paper, 
laid on a waiter in a sunny window. - When half dry, 
roll again in the sugar. Expose to the sun and breeze 

until perfectly dry, then, put in a cool, dry place until 
you are ready to arrange them in the glass dish for 
table. 

Garnish with green leaves. 


RIPE FRUIT. 311 


FRrosteEp AND GLACE ORANGES. 


6 sweet, large oranges. 

Whites of two eggs, whisked stiff, 

: 1 table-spoonful water, for frosting. 
' 1 cup powdered sugar. Cochineal. 

1 cup sugar, 

1 ounce gum arabic, for glazing. 

2 table-spoonfuls hot water, ( 

Pare the oranges, squeezing them as little as you can , 
remove every particle of the inner white skin, and 
divide them into lobes, taking care not to break the 
skin. Take half of the sugar meant for frosting, and 
stir it up with a few drops of liquid cochineal. Spread 
on a dish in the sun to dry, and if it lump, roll or 
pound again to powder. Put the white sugar in 
another dish. Add the water to the stiffened whites ; 
dip in one-third of the orange lobes and roll in the 
white sugar; another third, first in the eggs and water, 
then in the red sugar. Lay them upon a sheet of 
paper to dry. 

Put the gum arabic and hot water together over the 
fire, and when the gum is melted, add the cup of sugar. 
Stir until it is a clear, thick glue. Set in a pan of hot 
water and dip the remaining pieces of orange in it. 
Lay a stick lengthwise on a flat dish, and lean the lobes 
against it on both sides, to dry. 

Heap red, white, and yellow together in a glass dish, 
and garnish with leaves— orange or lemon leaves if you 
can get them. 

This is a delicate, but not difficult, bit of work, and 
the effect is very pretty. 


312 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


TropicaL Snow. fe 


10 sweet oranges. 

1 grated cocoanut. 

2 glasses pale sherry. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

6 red bananas. 

Peel the oranges; divide into lobes and cut these 
across three times, making small pieces, from which the 
seeds must be taken. Put a layer of these in the 
bottom of a glass bowl, and pour a little wine over 
them. Strew thickly with white sugar. The cocoanut 
should have been pared and thrown into cold water 
before it was grated. Spread some of it over the 
sugared oranges; cut the bananas into very thin round 
slices, and put a layer of the fruit close together, all 
over the cocoanut. More oranges, wine, sugar and 
cocoanut, and when the dish is full, heap high with the 
cocoanut. Sprinkle sugar on this, and ornament with 
rings of sliced banana. Lat very soon, or the oranges 
will grow tough in the wine. 

Oranges cut up in the way I have described are 
more easily managed with a spoon, and less juice is 
wasted, than when they are sliced in the usual manner. 

This is a handsome and delightful dessert. 


Cocoanut Frost on CusTarRD. > 


2 cups rich milk. 

4 pound sweet almonds, blanched and pounded. 
4 eggs, beaten light. 

4 cup powdered sugar. 

Rose-water. 


RIPE FRUIT. 313 


1 cocoanut, pared, thrown into cold water and grated, 

Scald the milk and sweeten. Stir into it the almonds 
pounded to a paste, with a little rose-water. Boil three 
minutes, and pour gradually upon the beaten eggs, 
stirring all the time. teturn to the fire and boil until 
well thickened. When cold turn into a glass bowl, and 
heap high with the grated cocoanut. Sift a little 
powdered sugar over all. | 


STEwED APPLES. >§ 


Core the fruit without paring it, and put it into a 
glass or stoneware jar, with a cover. Set in a pot 
of cold water and bring to a slow boil. Leave it at 
the back of the range for seven or eight hours, boiling 
gently all the time. Let the apples get perfectly cold 
before you open the jar. 

Kat with plenty of sugar and cream. 

Only sweet apples are good cooked in this manner, 
and they are very good. 


Baxep Prars. vf 


Cut ripe pears in half, without peeling or removing 
the stems. Pack in layers in a stoneware or glass jar. 
Strew a little sugar over each layer. Put a small cup- 
ful of water in the bottom of the jar to prevent burn- 
ing; fit on a close cover, and set in a moderate oven. 
Bake three hours, and let the jar stand unopened in 
the oven all night. 


APPLES AND JELLY. > 


Fill a baking-dish with pippins, or other tender juicy 
apples, pared and cored, but not sliced. Make a syrup 


314 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


of one cup of water, and half as much sugar; stir 
until the sugar is dissolved, and pour over the apples. 
Cover closely, and bake slowly until tender. Draw 
from the oven, and let the apples cool without uncover- 
ing. Pour off the syrup, and fill the hollowed centres 
with some bright fruit jelly. 

Boil down the syrup fast, until quite thick, and, just 
before sending the apples to table, stir into it some rich 
cream sweetened very abundantly. Pass with the 
apples. 


Boimtep CHESTNUTS. 


Put into warm (not hot) water, slightly salted, bring 
to a boil, and cook fast fifteen minutes. Turn off the 
water through a cullender; stir a good piece of butter 
into the hot chestnuts, tossing them over and over until 
they are glossy and dry. 

Serve upon a hot napkin in a deep dish. 


Watnuts and Hickory Nors. 


Crack and pick from the shells; sprinkle salt lightly 
over them, and serve mixed in the same dish. . 
Black walnuts are much more wholesome when eaten 
with salt. Indeed, they are not wholesome at all with- 
out it. . 
Mxtons. 


Wipe watermelons clean when they are taken from 
the ice. They should lie on, or in ice, for at least four 
hours before they are eaten. Carve at table by slicing 
off each end, then cutting the middle in sharp, long 
points, letting the knife go half way through the melon 


RIPE FRUIT. 81h 


at every stroke. Pull the halves apart, and you will 
have a dentated crown. 

Wash nutmeg and muskmelons; wipe dry; cut in 
two, scrape out the seeds, and put a lump of ice in 
each half. 


Eat with sugar, or with mixed pepper and salt. 


CAKES OF ALL KINDS. 
Nevuin’s Cur Caxr. >}« 


5 cups of flour. 

5 egos, whites and yolks separated—the latter 
strained. 

1 cup of butter, 

3 cups of sugar, 

1 cup of sweet milk. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls of cream tartar, sifted with flour. 

1 teaspoonful of vanilla. 

If prepared flour be used in this or any other cake, 
there is no need of soda and cream of tartar. 

Hecker’s flour I have found invaluable in cake- 
making. Indeed, I have never achieved anything short 
of triumphant success when I have used it. 


{ well creamed together. 


CarotinA Cake (wirnour Eaes.) 


1 coffee-cup of sugar—powdered. 

2 large table-spoonfuls butter, rubbed into the sugar. 

14 cups of flour. 

$ cup sweet cream. 

% teaspoonful of soda. 

Bake quickly in small tins, and eat while fresh and 
warm. 


Wuirr CaKn. phe 


1 cup of butter, rubbed to a light cream. 


2 cups of sugar, 


CAKES. 317 


1 cup of sweet milk. 

6 egos, the whites only—beaten stiff. 

% teaspoonful of soda, dissolved ir boiling water. 

1 teaspoonful of cream tartar, sifted with flour. 

4 cups of flour, or enough for tolerably thick batter, 
Juice of 1 lemon, and half the grated peel. 


CuocoLate Cake. f« 
2 cups of sugar. 
4 table-spoonfuls butter, rubbed in with the sugar. 
4 eggs, whites and yolks beaten separately. 
1 cup sweet milk. 
3 heaping cups of flour. 
1 teaspoonful of cream tartar, sifted into flour. 
4 teaspoonful soda, melted in hot water. 
Bake in jelly cake tins. 


Filling. 


Whites of two eggs, beaten to a froth. 

1 cup of powdered sugar. 

+ pound grated chocolate, wet in 1 table-spoonful 
cream. 

1 teaspoonful vanilla. 

Beat the sugar into the whipped whites; then the 
chocolate. Whisk all together hard for three minutes 
before adding the vanilla. Let the cake get quite cold 
before you spread it. Reserve a little of the mixture 
for the top, and beat more sugar into this to form a 
firm icing. | 
Apple CAKE, »)x 
2 cups powdered sugar. 

3 cups of flour. 


318 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


4 cup corn-starch, wet up with a little milk. 

4 cup of butter, rabbed to light cream with sugar. 

4 cup sweet milk. 

1 teaspoonful cream of tartar, sifted with flour. 

% teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

6 eggs, the whites only, whipped very stiff. 

Add the milk to the creamed butter and sugar ; the 
soda-water, corn-starch, then the flour and whites 
alternately. Bake in jelly cake tins. 


Filling. 


3 tart, well-flavored apples, grated. 

1 egg, beaten light. 

1 cup of sugar. 

1 lemon, grated peel and juice. 

Beat sugar and egg up with the lemon. Pare the 
apples and grate them directly into this mixture, letting 
an assistant stir it the while. The color will be better 
preserved by this method. Put into a farina-kettle, 
with boiling water in the outer vessel, and stir until it 
comes to a boil. Let it cool before putting it between 
the cakes. 

It is best eaten fresh. 


ORANGE CAKE. 


8 table-spoonfuls butter. 

2 cups of sugar. 

Yolks of 5 eggs, whites of three, beaten separately 
—the yolks strained through a sieve after they are 
whipped. 

1 cup of cold water. 

3 full cups of flour—enough for good batter. 


ar os 


CAKES. 319 


1 large orange, the juice, and half the grated peel. 

4 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

1 teaspoonful cream of tartar, sifted in flour. 

Cream the butter and sugar; add the eggs; beat in 
the orange, the water, soda, and stir in the flour quickly. 

Bake in jelly cake tins. 


Filling. 


Whites of two eggs, whisked stiff. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

Juice, and half the peel of an orange. 

Whip very light, and spread between the cakes when 

~ cold. | 
Reserve a little, and whip more sugar into it for 

frosting on top layer. 


Cuartorre Potonatse Cake. (Very fine.) -f« 


2 cups powdered sugar. 

4 cup of butter. 

4 eggs, whites and yolks beaten separately. 
1 small cup of cream, or rich milk. 

8 cups of prepared flour. 

Bake as for jelly cake. 


Filling. 


6 eges, whipped very light. 

2 table-spoonfuls flour. 

3 cups of cream—scalding hot. 

6 table-spoonfuls grated chocolate. 

6 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

4 pound sweet almonds, blanched and pounded. 
4 pound chopped citron. 


\ 


520 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


4 pound apricots, peaches, or other crystallized fruit, 

4 pound macaroons. 

Beat the yolks of the eggs very light. Stir into the 
cream the flour which has been previously wet with a 
little cold milk. 

Add very carefully the beaten yolks, and keep the 
mixture at a slow boil, stirring all the time, for five 
minutes. Take from the fire and divide the custard 
into three equal portions. Put the grated chocolate, 
with the macaroons, finely crumbled (or pounded), 
with one table-spoonful of sugar, into one pan of the 
mixture, stirring and beating well. Boil five minutes, 
stirring constantly ; take from the fire, whip with your 
ego-beater five minutes more, and set aside to cool. 

Pound the blanched alinonds—a few at a time—in a 
Wedgewood mortar, adding, now and then, afew drops 
of rose-water. Chop the citron very fine and mix with 
the almonds, adding three table-spoonfuls of sugar. 
Stir into the second portion of custard; heat to a slow 
boil; take it off and set by to cool. 

Chop the crystallized fruit very small, and put with 
the third cupful of custard. Heat to a boil; pour out 
and let it cool. 

Season the chocolate custard with vanilla; the al- 
mond and citron with bitter almond. The fruit will 
require no other flavoring. When quite cold, lay out 
four cakes made according to receipt given here, or 
bake at the same time a white cake in jelly-cake tins, and 
alternate with that. This will give you two good loaves. 
Put the chocolate filling between the first and second 
cakes; next, the almond and citron; the fruit custard 
next to the top. There will be enough for both loaves. 





CAKES. 321 


Ice the tops with lemon icing, made of the whites 
of the eggs whisked very stiff with powdered sugar, and 
flavored with lemon-juice. 

Lest the reader should, at a casual glance through 
this receipt, be appalled at the length and the number: 
of ingredients, let me say that I have made the “ polo- 
naise” frequently at the cost of little more time and 
trouble than is required for an ordinary cream or cho- 
colate cake. J would rather make three such, than 
one loaf of rich fruit-cake. 


A CuyarvotTs Cacn&e CAKE. 


1 thick loaf of sponge, or other plain cake. 

2 kinds of jelly—tart and sweet. 

Whisked whites of 5 eggs. 

1 heaping cup powdered sugar—or enough to make 
stiff icing. 

Juice of 1 lemon whipped into the icing. 

Cut the cake horizontally into five or six slices of 
uniform width. Spread each slice with jelly—tfirst 
the tart, then the sweet, and fit them into their for- 
mer places. Ice thickly all over, so as to leave no sign 
of the slices; set in a slow oven for a few minutes to 
harden; then, in a sunny window. 

This is an easy way of making a showy cake out of 
a plain one. 


Fanny’s Cake. >/ 


1 pound powdered sugar. 

1 pound flour—Hecker’s “ prepared.” 

4 pound butter rubbed to a cream with the sugar. 
8 eggs, whites and yolks beaten separately. 


322 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 coffee-cupful sweet almonds—blanched. 

Extract ot bitter almond and rose-water. 

Blanch the almonds in boiling water. Strip off the 
skins and spread them upon a dry cloth until perfectly 
cold and crisp. Pound in a Wedgewood mortar, add- 
ing rose-water as you go on, and, at the last, half a 
teaspoonful bitter almond extract. 

Stir the creamed butter and sugar and yolks to- 
gether until very light; add to this the flour, handful 
by handful; then the almond paste, alternately with 
the whites. Beat vigorously up from the bottom, two 
or three minutes. 

Bake in small tins, well buttered. When cold, turn 
them out and cover tops and sides with— 


Almond Icing. 


_ Whites of 3 eggs, whisked to a standing froth. 

# pound of powdered sugar. 

% pound*of sweet almonds blanched and pounded to 
a paste. When beaten fine and smooth, work gradu- 
ally into the icing. Flavor with lemon-juice and rose- 
water. 

This frosting is delicious. Dry in the open air when 
this is practicable. 


Morner’s Cur Caxz. 


1 cup of butter, 
2 cups of sugar, 
3 cups of flour. 
4 eggs beaten light—the yolks strained. 

1 cup sweet milk—a small one. 

1 teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in hot water. 


creamed together. 


CAKES. 823 


2 teaspoonfuls cream of tartar sifted into the flour. 
Nutmeg and vanilla flavoring. 
Bake in a loaf, or as jelly-cake. 


Ratsin CAKE. 


1 pound powdered sugar. 

1 pound flour. 

% pound butter rubbed to light cream with sugar. 

1 cup sweet milk. 

5 eggs, whites and yolks whipped separately, and 
the latter strained. 

1 pound raisins, stoned, cut in half, dredged with 
flour, and put into the cake just before it goes into the 
oven. 

1 teaspoonful mixed cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg. 

4 teaspoonful of soda dissolved in hot water. 

1 teaspoonful cream of tartar, sifted in the flour. 

Beat very hard after itis mixed, and bake in small 
loaves, in a steady oven. . 


NeapouitTan Cake. >< ( Yellow, pink, white and brown.) 


Y ellow. 


2 cups powdered sugar. 

1 cup butter stirred to light cream with sugar. 

5 egas—beaten well, yolks and whites separately. 
4 cupful sweet milk. 

3 cups prepared flour. 

A little nutmeg. 


Pink and White. 


1 pound sugar—powdered. 
1 pound prepared flour. 


324 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


4 pound butter creamed with sugar. 

10 eggs—the whites only—whisked stiff. 

Divide this batter into two equal portions. Leave 
one white, and color the other with a very little pre- 
pared cochineal. Use it cautiously, as a few drops too 
much will ruin the color. 


Brown. 


3 eggs beaten light. . 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

4 cup of butter creamed with sugar. 

2 table-spoonfuls cream. 

1 heaping cup prepared flour. 

2 table-spoontuls vanilla chocolate grated and rubbed 
smooth in the cream, before it is beaten into the cake. 

Bake all in jelly-cake tins. The above quantity 
should make one dozen cakes—three of each color. Of 
course, half as much will suffice for an ordinary family 
baking. But it is convenient to prepare it wholesale 
in this manner for a large supper, for a charity bazaar 
entertainment, or a church “ sociable.” 


Filling. 

Ist. 2 cups sweet milk. 

2 table-spoonfuls corn-starch, wet with milk. 
2 egos. 
2 small cups powdered sugar. 

Heat the milk, stir,in the sugar and corn-starch ; 
boil five minutes and put in the eggs. Stir steadily 
until quite thick. Divide this custard into two parts. 
Stir into one 2 table-spoonfuls of chocolate (grated) and 
a teaspoonful of vanilla; into the other bitter almond. 


CAKES. b25 


2d. Whites of three eggs, whisked stiff. 

1 cup of powdered sugar—heaping.° 
Juice, and half the grated peel of 1 lemon. 

Whip up well. Lay the brown cake as the founda- 
tion of the pile; spread with the yellow custard. Put 
the pink, coated with chocolate, next, and the white 
frosting between the third and fourth cakes—z.e. the 
white and yellow. You can vary the order as your 
fancy dictates. Cover the top with powdered sugar, or 
ice it. 

This cake looks very handsome cut into slices and 
mixed with plain, in baskets or salvers. You can 
hardly do better than to undertake it, if you have 
promised a liberal contribution to any of the objects 
above named. 


ORLEANS CAKE. 


1 liberal pound best flour, dried and sifted. 

1 pound powdered sugar. 

# pound butter, rubbed to a cream with the sugar. 

6 eggs beaten light, and the yolks strained. 

1 cup cream. 

1 glass best brandy. 

1 teaspoonful mixed mace and cinnamon. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls cream of tartar sifted with flour. 

Add the strained yolks to the creamed butter and 
sugar; to this, the cream and soda—then, in alternate 
supplies, the whites and flour ; finally, spice and brandy. 
Beat up hard for three minutes, and bake in two 
square loaves. The oven should not be too quick, but 
steady. Cover with paper if the cake shows signs of 


326. BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


crustiness on the top before it has risen to the proper 
height. It should bake one hour. 

Cover with lemon frosting when it is cool. 

It is a good cake, and keeps well. 


Morris CAKE. pie 


2 cups powdered sugar. 

1 cup butter, creamed with the sugar. 

4 cups flour. | 

5 eggs beaten light, the yolks strained. 

1 rather large cup sowr cream, or loppered milk. 

% grated nutmeg. 

1 teaspoonful vanilla. 

1 teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Stir beaten yolks, butter, and sugar together, and 
beat very light. Put in nutmeg and vanilla, the sour 
cream, half the flour, the soda-water, and the rest of 
the flour. Beat with steady strokes five minutes, bring- 
ing up batter from the bottom of the bowl at every 
sweep of the wooden spoon. In this way you drive 
the air into the cells of the ege-batter, instead of owt 
of them. This is a knack in the cake-maker’s art that 
is too little understood and practised. 

Remember, then, that the motion should always be 
upward, and the spoon always come up full. 

Bake in two loaves, or several smaller ones. The 
oven should not be too quick. 


Mont Brano Caxs. of 
2 even cups of powdered sugar. 
# cup butter, creamed with sugar. 
Whites of 5 eggs, very stiff. 
1 cup of milk. 


CAKES. 327 


3 cups of flour, or enough for good batter. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar, sifted in flour. 

Vanilla flavoring. 

Bake in jelly-cake tins. 

Filling. 

Whites of three eggs, whisked stiff. 

1 heaping cup powdered sugar. 

1 cocoanut, pared and grated. 

Mix all lightly together, taking care not to bruise the 
cocoanut, and when the cakes are perfectly cold, 
spread between, and upon them. 


Cream Rose Care. (Very pretty.) -f< 

Whites of 10 eggs, beaten to standing froth. 

1 cup butter, creamed with sugar. 

3 cups powdered sugar. 

1 small cup of sweet cream. 

Nearly 5 cups prepared flour. 

Vanilla flavoring, and liquid cochineal. 

Stir the cream (into which it is safe to put a pinch of 
soda) into the butter and sugar. Beat five minutes 
with “the Dover,” until the mixture is like whipped 
cream. Flavor with vanilla, and put in by turns the 
whites and the flour. Color a fine pink with cochineal. 
_ Bake in four jelly-cake tins. When cold, spread with, 


Filling. 
1% cocoanuts, pared and grated. 
Whites of 4 eggs, whisked stiff. 
1} cups powdered sugar. 
2 teaspoonfuls best rose-water. 


328 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Instead of cochineal, you can use strawberry or cur- 
rant juice in their season, making allowance for the 
thinning of your batter, by adding a little more flour. 
Cochineal is much better, however, since it takes but a 
few drops to color the whole cake. Any druggist will 
prepare it for you as he does for the confectioners, as a 
liquid. Or, he will powder it, and you can add toa 
pinch of the grayish crimson-dust a very little water ; 
strain it, and stir in, drop by drop, until you get the 
right tint. It is without taste or odor, and is perfectly 
harmless. 

Heap the cake after it is filled, with the white mix- 
ture, beating more sugar into that portion intended 
for the frosting. 


SULTANA CAKE. 

4 cups flour. 

1 cup of butter. 

3 cups powdered sugar. 

8 eggs, beaten light. Strain the yolks. 

1 cup cream, or rich milk. 

1 pound sultana (seedless) raisins, dredged thickly. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 smaller teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar. 

$ grated nutmeg, and $ teaspoonful of cinnamon. 

Cream the butter and sugar. Sift the cream of tar- 
tar with the flour. Dredge the raisins with flour when 
you have picked them over with great care, washed 
and dried them. 

Mix the beaten yolks with the creamed butter and 
sugar; then, the spice and brandy. Beat three min- 
utes, and stir in the cream or milk lightly with the 


CAKES. 3829 


soda-water. Put in, first a handful of one, then a 
spoonful of the other, the flour and whipped whites. 
At last, beat in the fruit. 

Bake in two large loaves, or four smaller ones. My 
own preference is for small loaves of cake. They are 
safer in baking, and can be cut more economically, 
especially where the family is not large. It is better to 
eut up the whole of a small cake for one meal, than to 
halve or quarter a large one, since the outer slices must 
be dry at the next cutting, and are wasted, to say nothing 
of the effect of the air upon the whole of the exposed 
interior. 

The Sultana must be baked slowly and carefully, and 
like all fruit-cakes, longer than a plain one. Ice 
thickly. It wil] keep very well. 


My Lapy’s Cake. pf. 


2 cups powdered sugar. 

4 cup butter, creamed with the sugar. 
Whites of 5 eggs, whisked stiff. 

1 cup of milk. 

3 full cups of prepared flour. 

Flavor with vanilla. 

Bake in jelly-cake tins. 


Filling. 
1 cup sweet cream, whipped stiff. 
8 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 
4 cup grated cocoanut, stirred in lightly at the last. 
1 teaspoonful rose-water. 
A very delicate and delicious cake, but must be 
eaten very soon after it is made, since the cream will 


530 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


be sour or stale after twenty-four hours. It is best on 
the day in which it is made. 


Cocoanut AND ALMOND Cake. >}« 


24 cups powdered sugar 

1 cup of butter. 

4 full cups prepared flour. 

Whites of 7 eggs, whisked stiff. 

1 small cup of milk, with a mere pinch of soda. 

1 grated cocoanut. 

4 teaspoonful nutmeg. 

Juice and half the grated peel of 1 lemon. 

Cream butter and sugar; stir in lemon and nutmeg. 
Mix well, add the milk, the whites and flour alternately. 
Lastly, stir in the grated cocoanut swiftly and lightly. 

Bake in four jelly-cake tins. 


Liiling. 

1 pound sweet almonds. 

Whites of 4 eggs, whisked stiff. 

1 heaping cup powdered sugar. 

2 teaspoonfuls rose-water. 

Blanch the almonds. Let them get cold and dry. 
Then pound in a Wedgewood mortar, adding rose-water, 
as you goon. Save about two dozen to shred for the 
top. Stir the paste into the icing after it is made; 
spread between the cooled cakes. Make that for the 
top a trifle thicker, and lay it on heavily. When it 
has stiffened somewhat, stick the shred almonds closely 
over it. Set in the oven to harden, but do not let it 
scorch. 

You will like this cake. 


CAKES. dol 


Cocoanut Sponge CAKE. 


5 egos, whites and yolks separated. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

1 full cup prepar ed flour. 

Juice and half the grated peel of 1 lemon. 

A little salt. 

% grated nutmeg. 

1 cocoanut, pared and grated. 

Stir together sugar, and the whipped and strained 
yolks. To this put the lemon, salt and nutmeg. Beat 
in the flour and whites by turns, then the grated cocoa- 
nut. 

Bake in square, shallow tins, or in one large card. 
It should be done in half an hour, for the oven must 
be quick, yet steady. 

It is best eaten fresh. 


Ricuer Cocoanut Cake. 


1 pound powdered sugar. 

1 pound flour, dried and sifted. 

% pound butter, rubbed to cream with sugar. 

1 cup of fresh milk. 

1 lemon, the juice and half the grated peel. 

5 eggs, yolks and whites beaten separately. 

1 grated cocoanut. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 smaller Pas pcontuls cream of tartar, sifted in the 
flour. 

Bake in two square, shallow pans. 

Ice, when cold, with lemon icing. 


332 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA, 


CorreE CAKE. 


5 cups flour, dried and sifted. 

1 cup of butter. 

2 cups of sugar. 

1 cup of tHOTASteN 

1 cup made black coffee—the very best aay. 
4 pound raisins, seeded and minced. 
% pound currants, washed and dried. 
¢ pound citron, chopped fine. 

3 egos, beaten very light. 

4 teaspoonful cinnamon. 

4 teaspoonful mace. 

+ teaspoonful cloves. 





Cream the butter and sugar, warm the molassea 
slightly, and beat these, with the spices, hard, five 
minutes, until the mixture is very hght. Next, put in 
the yolks, the coffee, and when these are well mixed, 
the flour, in turn with the whipped whites. Next, the 
saleratus, dissolved in hot water, and the fruit, all 
mixed together and dredged well with flour. Beat up 
very thoroughly, and bake in two loaves, or in small 
round tins. 

The flavor of this cake is peculiar, but to most 
palates very pleasant. Wrap in a thick cloth as soon 
as it is cold enough to put away without danger 
of “sweating,” and shut within your cake box, as it 
soon loses the aroma of the coffee if exposed to the 
air. 


CAKES. 333 


Mo.uassss Freir CaKks. 


1$ pound flour. 

1 pound powdered sugar. 

1 cup of molasses. 

1 cup sour cream. 

5 egos, beaten very light. 

1 pound of raisins, seeded and cut into thirds. 

1 teaspoonful cinnamon and cloves. 

% grated nutmeg. 

% teaspoonful ginger. 

# pound butter. 

1 full teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Cream butter and sugar ; warm the molasses slightly 
and beat into this with spices and cream. Add the 
yolks of the eggs, stir in the flour and the whites 
alternately, the soda-water, then the fruit, well dredged 
with flour. Beat all together vigorously for at least 
three minutes before putting into well-buttered tins to 
be baked. 

It will require long and careful baking, the molasses 
rendering it liable to burn. 


Uniry Cake. > 
1 egg. 
1 cup of powdered sugar. 
1 cup of cream (with a pinch of soda stirred in). 
1 pint of prepared flour. 
1 table-spoonful butter. 
1 salt-spoonful nutmeg. 
1 teaspoonful vanilla. 
Rub the butter and sugar together; add the beaten 


834 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


egg, the cream and nutmeg. Whip all for five minutes 
with the “ Dover,” stir in*the vanilla. and then very 
lightly, the flour. 2 

Bake at once. 

It is a nice cake if eaten while fresh. 


Brown Caks, 

4 cups flour. 

1 cup butter. 

1 cup molasses. 

1 cup best brown sugar. . 

6 egus, beaten very light. 

1 table-spoonful ginger. 

1 table-spoonful mixed cloves and cinnamon. 

1 pound sultana raisins, washed, picked over and 
dried. 

1 teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Warm the molasses, butter and sugar slightly, and 
whip with an egg-beater toa cream. Beat in the yolks, 
the spices, the whites, flour, soda-water, and lastly the 
fruit, dredged with flour. : 

Beat hard for two or three minutes, and bake in two 
loaves or in small round tins. 

The oven must be moderate and steady. 


Myrriy’s Caxn. fe 


5 egos, beaten light, and the yolks strained. 
3 cups of powdered sugar. 

1 cup of butter creamed with the sugar. 

1 cup sweet milk. 

4 cups of prepared flour. 

Juice of 1 lemon and half the grated peel. 


. 


CAKES. 33D 


A little nutmeg. 
Bake in two loaves. It*is a very good cup cake, safe 
and easy. Cover with lemon frosting. 


Risen SEED CAKE. 


' 1 pound of flour: 

4 pound of butter. 

# pound powdered sugar. 

$ cup good yeast. 

4 table-spoonfuls cream. 

Nutmeg. A pinch of soda, dissolved in hot water. 

2 table-spoonfuls carraway seed. 

< pound of citron shred very small. 

Mix flour, cream, half the butter (melted) and the 
yeast together; work up very well and set to rise for 
six hours. When very light, work in the rest of the 
butter rubbed to a cream with the sugar, the soda- 
water, and when these ingredients are thoroughly in- 
corporated, the seed and citron. Let it rise three- 
quarters of an hour longer—until it almost fills the 
pans—and bake steadily half an hour if you have put 
it in small pans, an hour, if it is in large loaves. This 
is a German cake. 


Cirron CAKE. 


6 eggs, beaten light and the yolks strained. 

2 cups of sugar. 

# cup of butter. 

24 cups prepared flour, or enough to make pound- 
cake batter. With some brands you may need 3 cups. 

$ pound citron cut in thin shreds. 

Juice of an orange and 1 teaspoonful grated peel. 


306 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Cream butter and sugar; add the yolks, the whites 
and flour by turns, the orange, and lastly, the citron, 
dredged with flour. Beat all up hard, and bake in 
two loaves. 


Rica Atmonp Cake. >}« 


4 cups prepared flour. 

2 cups powdered sugar. 

1 cup of butter. 

10 eggs, whipped light, the yolks strained. 

% pound sweet almonds, blanched and pounded. 

1 table-spoonful orange-flower water. 

Nutmeg. 

Beat butter and sugar ten minutes until they are 
like whipped cream ; add the strained yolks, the whites 
and flour alternately with one another, then the almond 
paste in which the orange-flower water has been mixed 
as it was pounded, and the nutmeg. Beat well and 
bake as “snow balls,” in small round, rather deep pans, 
with straight sides. They will require some time to 
bake. Cover with almond icing. 


A Cuartorre A LA PARISIENNE, >f« 


1 large stale sponge-cake. 

1 cup rich sweet custard. 

1 cup sweet cream, whipped. 

2 table-spoonfuls rose-water. 

4 grated cocoanut. 

% pound sweet almonds, blanched and pounded. 
Whites of 4 eggs, whipped stiff. 

3 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

Cut the cake in horizontal slices the whole breadth 


ny 


CAKES. Soa 


of the loaf. They should be about half an inch thick. 
Divide the whipped eggs into two portions ; into one 
stir the cocoanut with half the sugar; into the other 
the almond paste with the rest of the sugar. Spread 
the slices with these mixtures,—half with the cocoanut, 
half with almond, and replace them in their origi- 
nal form, laying aside the top-crust for a lid. Press 
all the sliced cake firmly together, that the slices may 
not slip, and with a sharp knife cut a deep cup ont of 
the centre down to the bottom slice, which must be 
left entire. Take out the rounds you have cut, leaving 
walls an inch thick, and soak the part removed in a 
bowl with the custard. Rub it to a smooth batter, and 
whip it into the frothed cream. The rose-water in the 
almond paste will flavor it sufficiently. When it is a 
stiff rich cream, fill the cavity of the cake with it, put 
on the lid, and ice with the following: 

Whites of 3 eggs. 

1 heaping cup of powdered sugar. 

Juice of 1 lemon. 

Beat stiff and cover the sides and top of the cake. 
Set in a very cold place until needed. 

This is a delicious and elegant Charlotte. 


JEANIE’Ss Fruit CAKE. 


6 eggs. 
1 cup of butter. 


+ cups of powdered sugar. 

5 cups of flour. 

2 cups of sour cream. 

% pound raisins, seeded and chopped. 
¢ pound citron, shred finely. 


bo 


338 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA, 


1 heaping teaspoonful of soda. 

1 teaspoonful mixed nutmeg and cinnamon. 

Cream butter and sugar, beat in the yolks; the 
cream and spices, whip together for a minute, stir in 
the flour and whites, the soda, dissolved in hot water, 
and, very quickly, the fruit dredged with flour. Stir 
up hard and bake immediately. 

This will make two good-sized loaves. 


Pompton Cake. »}« 


2 cups powdered sugar. 

3 cups prepared flour. 

1 cup rich, sweet cream. A little salt. 

3 egos whipped very light. 

Vanilla and nutmeg flavoring. 

Beat the eggs very light—the whites until they will 
stand alone, the yolks until they are thick and smooth. 
Put yolks and sugar together ; whip up well; add the 
cream, the flour, whites and flavoring, stirring briskly 
and lightly; fill your “snow-ball” pans or cups and 
bake at once, in a quick oven. 

This cake may be made of sour cream, if a teaspoon- 
ful of soda be added. In this case, the prepared flour 
must not be used. 


May’s Caxkn. 


3 cups flour, full ones. 
3 eggs. 

4 cup of milk. 

2 cups of sugar, 

4 cup of butter. 

4 cup of cream. 


CAKES. 339 


4 teaspoonful soda dissolved in hot water. 

1 teaspoonful cream of tartar, sifted in flour. 
Nutmeg, and a pinch of grated lemon-peel. 
Bake in one loaf. 


Frep’s Favorite. >} 


3 eggs—whites and yolks beaten separately. 

1 cup of sugar. 

2 cups of flour. 

% cup rich milk—cream is better. 

% teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

1 teaspoonful cream of tartar sifted in flour. 

Extract of bitter almond. 

Bake in jelly-cake tins and when cold, spread with 
the following. 

Filling. 

Whites of 4 eggs, whipped stiff. 

Heaping cup of powdered sugar. 

2 table-spoonfuls crab-apple jelly, beaten into the 
méringue after it is stiff. 

Reserve enough of the frosting before you add the 
jelly, to cover the top. 


Corn-SrarcH Cup Cakk. 
5 egas. | 
1 cup of butter. 
2 cups of sugar. 
1 cup sweet milk. 
1 cup corn-starch. 
2 cups prepared flour. 
Vanilla flavoring. 
Bake at once in small loaves, and eat while fresh. 


340 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


All corn-starch cakes become dry and insipid after 
twenty-four hours. 


“ OnzE, TWO, THREE” Cup Cake, >a 


1 cup powdered sugar. 

2 cups prepared flour. 

3 egos well beaten. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

4 cup milk. 

A little vanilla. 

Bake in jelly-cake tins, and spread with méringue 
or jelly. 

Snow-Drirr Cake. 


2 cups powdered sugar. 

1 heaping cup prepared flour. 

10 eggs—the whites only, whipped stiff. 

Juice of 1 lemon and half the grated peel. 

A. little salt. 

Whip the eggs stiff, beat in the sugar, lemon, salt, 
and finally the flour. Stir in very lightly and quickly 
and bake at once in two loaves, or in square cards. 

It is a beautiful and delicious cake when fresh. It 
is very nice, baked as jelly-cake and spread with this: 


Filling. 
Whites of 3 eggs. 
1 heaping cup of powdered sugar. 
Juice of 1 orange and half the peel. 
Juice of 4 lemon. 
Whip toa good méringue and put between the layers, 
adding more sugar for the frosting on the top. 


CAKES. 341 


NeEwark Cake. 

1 cup of butter. 

2 cups of sugar. 

4 even cups prepared flour. 

1 cup of good milk. 

6 egos, beaten very light. 

Nutmeg and bitter almond flavoring. 

If you have not the prepared flour, put in a teaspoon- 
ful of soda and two of cream of tartar. 


Wine Cake. 

34 cupfuls prepared flour. 

% cup of butter. 

4 egos—beaten light. 

4 cupful cream (with a pinch of soda in it). 

4 glass sherry wine. 

Nutmeg. 

2 full cups of powdered sugar. 

Cream butter and sugar; beat in the yolks and 
wine until very light, add the cream; beat two minutes 
aud stir in very quickly, the whites and flour. 

Bake in one loaf. 


Fruir anp Nut Cake, >} 


4 cups of flour. 
2 cups of sugar. 
1 cup of butter. 
6 eges—whites and yolks separated. 
1 cup cold water. 
1 coffee cupful of hickory-nut kernels, free from 
shells and very sweet and dry. 


342 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


% pound raisins, seeded, chopped and dredged with 
cakeies Sapec) 

1 teaspoonful of soda dissolved in hot water. 

2 teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar, sifted in the 
flour. 

1 teaspoonful mixed nutmeg and cinnamon. 

Rub butter and sugar together to a smooth cream ; 
put in the yolks, then the water, spice, soda; next the 
whites and flour. The fruit and nuts, stirred together 
and dredged, should go in last. Mix thoroughly and 
bake in two loaves. 


Uniry GINGERBREAD. >} 


1 cup of butter. 

1 cup sugar. 

1 cup molasses—the very best. 

1 cup “loppered ” milk or buttermilk. 

1 quart flour. 

1 table-spoonful ginger. 

1 teaspoonful mixed cloves and mace. 

1 teaspoonful cinnamon. 

1 cup raisins, seeded and cut in two. 

1 half-pound eggs—beaten light. 

1 heaping teaspoonful of soda dissolved in hot water. 

Put butter, molasses and sugar together; warm 
slightly and whip with an egg-beater, until light and 
creamy. Add the eggs, milk, spices; flour, soda-water. 
Beat hard for a minute, then put in the fruit, well 
dredged with flour. Bake in two loaves, or cards. 
For the eae of “preserving the unities” “1 half pound 
of eggs” is introduced into this wnique receipt. It is 
safe, however, if you do not care to take the trouble of 


CAKES. 343 


weighing them, to allow four (or five, if they are small,) 
to the half-pound. 
RttcuMonp GINGERBREAD. fe 

1 cup of sugar. 

1 cup of molasses. 

1 cup of butter. 

1 cup of sweet milk. 

4 cups of flour. 

4 egos. 

1 table-spoonful mixed ginger and mace. 

1 teaspoonful soda—a smail one—dissolved in the 
milk. 

Beat sugar, molasses, butter and spice together to a 
cream; add the whipped yolks, the milk, and, very 
quickly, the whites and flour. 

Bake in one loaf, or in cups. 


E@eLess GINGERBREAD. Pf 

1 cup of sugar. 

1 cup of best molasses. 

4 cup of butter. 

1 cup of sour cream. 

1 table-spoonful ginger. 

1 teaspoonful cinnamon. 

1 heaping teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Nearly 4 cups of flour. 

Mix, and bake quickly, adding the soda-water last, 
and beating hard for two minutes after it goes in. 


Sugar GINGERBREAD. p< 
1 cup butter. 
2 cups of sugar. 


344 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


4 egos, beaten very light. 

1 cup of sour cream. 

44 cups of flour. 

Juice of 1 lemon, and half the grated peel. 
, 1 teaspoonful of cinnamon. 
Gre grated nutmeg. 

1 table- Giectal ginger. 

I teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in hot eatee 

Bake in two loaves. It is very nice, and will keep 
several days if wrapped in a thick cloth. 


Hatr-Cur GINGERBREAD. 


$ cup of sugar. 

4 cup of butter. 

4 cup of best molasses. 

% cup of sour milk. 

% pound of eggs. 

4 pound of flour, ov enough for good batter. 

+ coffee-cup of raisins, seeded and halved. 

4 table-spoonful ginger. 

4 teaspoonful cinnamon. 

4 dessert-spoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

Cream butter, sugar, molasses and spices. Beat 

, thoroughly before adding yolks and milk. Put in flour 

and whites alternately, then the soda-water. Mix well, 
and stir in the fruit dredged with flour. 

Bake in one card or loaf. 


CuRRANT CAKE. p}« 
1 cup of butter. 


2 cups of powdered sugar, creamed with butter. 
4 cup of sweet milk. 


CAKES. 345 

4 egos. 

e cups of erepied flour. 

$ grated nutmeg. 

4 pound currants, washed, dried and dredged. 

Put the fruit in last. Bake in cups or small pans. 
They are very nice for luncheon or tea—very convenient 
for Sabbath-school suppers and picnics. 


Cocoanut Cakes. (Small.) 
grated cocoanut. 

1 cup powdered sugar. 

3 eggs—the whites only, whipped stiff. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch, wet in the milk of the 
cocoanut. 

Rtose-water flavoring. 

Whip the sugar into the stiffened whites; then the 
corn-starch, the cocoanut and rose-water last. Beat up 
well, and drop by the spoonful upon buttered paper. 

Bake half an hour. 


Rosz Dror Caxzs. (Cocoanut.) 


Mix as directed in last receipt, coloring the mérengue 
before you put in the cocoanut, with liquid cochineal. 
Add cautiously until you get the right tint. 


VARIEGATED CAKES. 


1 cup of powdered sugar. 
4 cup of butter, creamed with the sugar. 
% cup of milk. 
4 evos—the whites only, whipped light. 
24 cups of prepared flour. 
Bitter-almond flavoring. 
Spinach-juice and cochineal. 
15* 


46 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Cream butter and sugar, add the milk, flavoring the 
whites and flour. Divide the batter into three parts. 
Bruise and pound a few leaves of spinach in a thin 
muslin bag, until you can express the juice. Puta few 
drops of this into one portion of the batter, color an- 
other with cochineal, leaving the third white. Put a 
little of each into small round pans or cups, giving a 
slight stir to each color as you add the next. This will 
vein the cakes prettily. Put the white between the 
pink and green, that the tints may show better. 

If you can get pistachio-nuts to pound up for the 
green, the cakes will be much nicer. 

Ice on sides and top. 


Snow-Droprs. 


1 cup of butter. 

2 cups of sugar. 

Whites of 5 eggs. 

1 small cup of milk. 

3 full cups of prepared flour. 

Flavor with vanilla and nutmeg. 

Bake in small, round tins. Those in the shape of 
fluted shells are very pretty. 


Rico Drop Caxszs. 


1 pound of flour. 

1 pound of powdered sugar. 

# pound of butter. 

4 pound of currants, washed and dried. 

4 eggs, beaten very light. 

Juice of 1 lemon, and half the grated peel. 

% teaspoonful of soda, wet up with hot water. 


CAKES. 347 


Dredge the currants, and put them in last of all. 
Drop the mixture by the spoonful, upon buttered paper, 
taking care that they are not so close relat as to 
touch in baking. , 


KxELLoce CookrEs. 


1 cup of butter. 

2 cups powdered sugar, creamed with the butter. 

3 table-spoonfuls sour cream. 

4 egos, beaten very light. 

5 cups of flour. 

1 teaspoonful—an even one—of soda. 

1 teaspoonful of nutmeg. 

A handful of currants, washed and dried. 

Mix all except the fruit, into a dough just stiff 
enough to roll out. The sheet should be about a quar- 
ter of an inch thick. Cut round, and bake quickly. 
When about half done open the oven-door; strew a 
few currants upon each cookey, and close the door 
again immediately, lest the cakes should get chilled. 


Berrie’s Cooktzs. >} 


1 large cup of sugar. 

4 cup of butter. 

1 cup sweet milk. 

3 egos, beaten light. 

4 cups prepared flour, or enough to enable you to 
roll out the dough. 

Nutmeg and cinnamon. 

Cream butter, spice and sugar; add the yolks, then 
the milk; whites and flour alternately ; roll into a thin 


348 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


sheet with as few strokes as possible; cut into fancy 
shapes with tin-cutters, and bake quickly. 


SEED CookKIEs. 


1 cup of butter. 

2% cups powdered sugar. 

4 eggs. 

4 cups of flour, or enough for soft dough. 

2 ounces carraway-seeds, scattered through the flour 
while dry. 

Rub butter and sugar to a cream; add the yolks, 
and mix up well. Put in flour and whites in turns; 
roll out thin and cut into round cakes. 


Montrose Cooxtes. >} 


1 pound of flour. 

4 pound of butter. 

4% pound of powdered sugar. 

1 teaspoonful mixed spices—cinnamon, nutmeg, and 
mace, and a few raisins. 

3 eggs, well beaten. 

Juice of 1 lemon, and half the grated peel. 

Roll out rather thin, and cut into round or oval 
cakes. Sprinkle a little white sugar over the top; lay 
a whole raisin in the centre of each, and bake quickly 
until crisp. 


Aunt Mottiy’s Cooxtss. 


1 cup of butter. 
2 cups powdered sugar. 


4 egos. 
4 cups of prepared flour, or enough for soft dough. 


CAKES. 349 


2 table-spoonfuls of cream. 

Nutmeg and mace. 

Roll into a thin sheet, and cut into small cakes. 
Bake in a quick oven until crisp and of a delicate 
brown. Brush them over while hot with a soft bit of 
rag dipped in sugar and water, pretty thick. 


Lemon Macaroons. 


1 pound of powdered sugar. 

4 egos, whipped very light and long. 

Juice of 3 lemons, and peel of one. 

1 heaping cup of prepared flour. 

4 teaspoonful nutmeg. 

Butter your hands lightly; take up small lumps 
of the mixture; make into balls about as large as 
a walnut, and lay them upon a sheet of buttered 
paper—more than two inches apart. Bake in a brisk 
oven. 


Lemon CooKIEs. 


1 pound of flour, or enough for stiff dough. 

+ pound of butter. 

1 pound of powdered sugar. 

Juice of 2 lemons, grated peel of one. 

3 eggs, whipped very light. 

Stir butter, sugar, lemon-juice and peel to a light 
cream. Beat at least five minutes before adding the 
yolks of the eggs. Whip them in thoroughly, put in 
the whites, lastly the flour. Roll out about an eighth 
of an inch in thickness, and cut into round cakes. 


Bake quickly. 


350 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Keep in a dry place in a tin box, but do not wrap 
them up, as they are apt to become soft. 


Carraway Cooxtms, mf. 


3 poner ee rubbed to a cream. 
4 pound of sugar, 
3 eggs, beaten Rise and light. 
1 ounce carraway eae see through the flour. 
Flour to roll out pretty stiff. 
Roll into a thin sheet ; cut out with a cake-cutter ; 
prick with a sharp fork, and bake in a moderate oven. 


SmaLL ArtMonpD Caxkzs. 


1 pound of powdered sugar 

6 eggs, beaten very hate 

, Aeneid of almonds, blanched and pounded. 

$ pound of prepared flour. 

Rose-water, mixed with the almond-paste. 

Whip up the whites of the eggs to a méringue with 
half the sugar; stir in the almond-paste. Beat the 
yolks ten minutes with the remainder of the sugar. 
Mix all together, and add the flour lightly and rapidly. 

Bake in well-buttered paté-pans, or other small tins, 
very quickly. Turn out as soon as done upon a baking- 
pan, bottom uppermost, that these may dry out. 


Cream Oakss. 9 (Pretty and good.) 


Some good puff- nd 

Whites of 2 egos, $ cup sweet jelly. 

1 cup of cream, hie to a froth. 

3 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 5 
Vanilla, or other flavoring. 


CAKES. 351 
Roll out the paste as for pies; cut into squares five 
inches across. Ilave ready greased muflin-rings three 
inches in diameter; lay one in the centre of each 
square; turn up the four corners upon it, so as to make 
a cup of the paste, and bake in a quick oven. When 
almost done, open the oven-door, pull out the muffin- 
rings with care, brush the paste cups inside and out 
with beaten white of egg; sift powdered sugar over 
them, and brown. ‘This operation must be performed 
quickly and dexterously, that the paste may not cool. 
Let them get cold after they are taken from the oven, 
line with the jelly and fill with the whipped cream 
sweetened and flavored. 


CustarD Cakes. pf. 


Some good puff-paste. 

Some balls of white, clean tissue-paper. 

3 or 4 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

2 eggs. 

2 cups—more or less, of rich custard. 

Roll out the paste very thin; spread it thickly with 
beaten yolk of egg, and strew powdered sugar over 
this. Fold up tightly ; flatten with the rolling-pin, and 
roll out as for a pie-crust. Line paté-pans well greased 
with this ; put a ball of soft paper within each to keep 
up the top crust; put this on, lightly buttering the 
inner edge, and bake quickly until nicely browned. 
When almost cold, turn out of the tins, lift the top 
crusts, take out the papers and cover the tops with 
icing made of the whites of the eggs and powdered 
sugar. Sift more sugar over this, and set in the oven 
a minute or two to harden. Just before sending them 


352 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


to table fill with custard ; replace the frosted covers, 
and serve. 

They are very good. It is well to thicken the cus- 
tard with a little corn-starch. 


QurEN CAKES. >/ 


1 cup of butter. 

2 cups of sugar. 

3% cups of flour. 

$ cup of cream. 

4 eggs. 

$ pound of currants. 

+ pound sweet almonds, blanched aud pounded. 

% teaspoonful soda, dissolved in hot water. 

1 teaspoonful of cream of tartar, sifted in flour. 

Rose-water, worked into almond-paste. 

Beat butter and sugar to a cream, add the yolks and 
almond-paste. Whip all together for five minutes be- 
fore putting in the cream, the soda-water, whites and 
flour alternately ; finally the fruit dredged with flour. 
Stir thoroughly, and bake in small tins well buttered. 

They should be done in from twenty to thirty min- 
utes. Ice them with lemon frosting on the tops only. 


SMALL Cirron Cakes, 
6 eggs. 
4 pound of butter. 
% pound sugar, creamed with the butter. 
# pound of prepared flour. 
1 glass best brandy. 
¢ pound citron, shred fine. 
Nutmeg to taste. 


CAKES. is 


Beat the creamed butter and sugar up with the 
yolks; add the brandy, and whip Aard five minutes ; 
then the flour, whites, and the citron shred fine and 
dredged with flour. Bake in small tins very quickly. 
They keep well. 


SEED WAFERS. 


$ pound of sugar. 

4 pound of butter, creamed with the sugar. 

4 egos, beaten very light. 

Enough flour for soft dough. 

1 ounce carraway-seeds, mixed with the dry flour. 

Mix well; roll into a very thin paste. Cut into 
round cakes, brush each over with the white of an egg, 
sift powdered sugar upon it, and bake in a brisk oven 
about ten minutes, or until crisp. Do not take them 
from the baking-tins until nearly cold, as they are apt 
to break while hot. 


GIncER Cooxtzrs. »f« 


1 cup of butter. 

2 cups of sugar, creamed with the butter. 

4+ cup of milk, with a pinch of soda in it. 

2 eggs. 

1 table-spoonful ginger. 

4 grated nutmeg. 

4 teaspoonful of cinnamon. 

Ilour for stiff dough. 

Roll very thin; cut into round cakes, and bake 
quickly until crisp. 

They will keep a long time. 


oo+ BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


GincEeR Snaps. (Large quantity.) 


1 pound of butter. 

2 pounds of flour. 

1} pounds of sugar. 

6 eggs, beaten very light. 

1 great spoonful of ginger. 

1 teaspoonful mixed cloves and cinnamon. 

Roll as thin as wafer-dough. Cut into small, round 
cakes, and bake crisp. Let them get cooi before put- 
ting them away, or they may soften. 


F'riep JUMBLEs. 

2 egos. . 

1 cup of sugar, 

4 table-spoonfuls of butter, 

1 cup of milk. 

1 teaspoonful of soda. 

2 teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar. 

4 cups of flour, or enough for soft dough. 

Season to taste with nutmeg. 

Roll into a sheet nearly an inch thick. Cut into 
shapes, and fry in boiling lard, as you would crullers. 
Drain. off every drop of fat; sift powdered sugar over 
the cakes while hot, and eat fresh. 


rubbed to a cream. 


Genuine Scotcu Suorr Breap. ( Very fine.) 


2 pounds flour. 

1 pound best butter. 

Scant 4 pound of sugar. 

Wash all particles of salt from the butter. Rub 
this and the sugar together to a cream, as for loaf cake. 


CAKES. 3 Y95) 


The flour should be dry and slightly warm. Mix this 
into the creamed butter and sugar gently and gradually 
with the hand, until all the ingredients are thoroughly 
incorporated. The longer it is kneaded the better it 
will be. Lay it on a pasteboard, and press into sheets 
nearly half an inch thick with the hand, as rolling has 
a tendency to toughen it. Cut into such shapes as you 
may desire—into oblong, or square cards; prick or 
stamp a pattern on top (I have seen the Scotch thistle 
pricked upon it) and bake in a moderate oven until it 
is crisp, and of a fine yellow brown. 

It delights me to be able to make public this receipt, 
for the excellent housewife and friend, from whom I 
have procured it, is a native of the “land o’ cakes,” 
and, as I can testify from repeated and satisfactory 
proofs thereof, makes the most delicious “short bread ” 
that was ever eaten in this country—quite another 
thing from the rank, unctuous compound vended under 
that name by professional bakers and confectioners. 


THA. 


THE evening meal, call it by whatever name we 
may, is apt to be the most social one of the three which 
are the rule in this land. The pressure of the busi- 
ness allotted to the hours of daylight is over. The 
memory and the conversation of each one who comes 
to the feast, are richer by the history of another day. It 
is sometimes hard to “make talk” for the breakfast 
table. The talk of the six o'clock p.m. dinner, or 
supper, or tea, makes itself. I frankly own that, how- 
ever much may be said in favor, on hygienic grounds, 
of early meals for the nursery, the mid-day dinner for 
adults has always worn for me a grim, and certainly an 
unpoetical aspect. The “nooning” should, for the 
worker with muscles, nerves, or brains, be a light re- 
past and easily digested, followed by real physical rest. 
He is weary when he comes to it; he eats in haste, his 
mind intent upon the afternoon’s work, and he may not 
tarry when it is dispatched, having already “lost” an 
hour in discussing (or bolting) soup, salad, fish, meat 
and dessert. The weight of undigested food seems, 
during the succeeding hours of business or study, to 
shift its position and clog and heat the brain. 

“T will not preach to roast-beef and plum-pudding! ” 
said America’s greatest preacher, in refusing to hold a 
Sabbath afternoon service. 


TRA, 857 


People quoted the bon mot approvingly. Few had 
common sense enough to apply it to week-day occupa- 
tions. If men and women would rest, after au early 
dinner on Monday, Tnesday, Wednesday, Thursday, 
Triday and Saturday, as long and absolutely as they 
do on Sabbath afternoons, there would be less money 
made, perhaps, but fewer stomachs destroyed, and fewer 
intellects overstrained. 

This, however, as Paul candidly remarks touching 
certain of his deliverances—“ I say of mine own judg- 
ment.” And, after all, | should be the sorriest of the 
sorry to see the tea-table swept out of American 
households. While I write, there come stealing back 
to me recollections that tempt me to draw my pen 
through some lines I have just set down. Late dinners 
and late suppers used to be the fashion, seldom 
altered—in Southern homes. In summer, the latter 
were always eaten by artificial light. In winter, lamps 
were brought in with the dessert, at dinner-time. I 
was almost grown before I was introduced to what the 
valued correspondent who gave us the text for the first 
“ Wamiliar Talk ” in this volume calls, “a real old New 
England tea-table.” During one delicious vacation I 
learned, and reveled in knowing, what this meant. 
Black tea with cream, (I have never relished it without, 
since that idyllic summer) rounds of brown bread, 
light, sweet, and fresh; hot short-cake in piles that 
were very high when we sat down, and very low when 
we arose ; a big glass bowl of raspberries and currants 
that were growing in the garden under the back win- 
dows an hour before ; a basket of frosted cake ; a plate 
of pink ham, balanced by one of shaved, not chipped 


358 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


beef—and sage cheese! I had never eaten it before. 
I have never tasted it anywhere else than in that wide, 
cool tea-room, the level sun-rays flickering through the 
grape-vines shading the west side of the house, and 
through the open casements opposite, a view of Boston 
bay—all purple and rose and gold, dotted with hun- 
dreds of white sails. This was what we had, when, in 
that Old New England farm-house, Polly, the faithful 
—who had startled me, for a time, by saying, “ proper 
glad,” and “sweet pretty ;” who “hadn’t ought ” to do 
this, and “should admire” to do that—Polly, whom 
nobody thought of calling a servant, but was a “ help” 
in every conceivable sense of the word—had““ put the 
kettle on and we all had tea!” 

Ido not like to think it possible that in that beloved 
homestead they may have kept up with the times so 
far as to have dinner at six o’clock, and tea—never! 

1t is a pleasant practice, in many families, where 
the late dinner is convenient, and, for many reasons, 
preferred during the rest of the week, to have a “ com- 
fortable tea” on Sabbath evening. The servants are 
thus released the earlier for their evening’s devotions 
or recreations; the housewife has an opportunity of 
indulging the father, who is seldom at home at lunch- 
eon-time, with dainty wonders of her skill that are not 
en regle at dinner, and the children have a taste of old- 
fashioned home-life, the memory of which will be 
carried by them as long and fondly into their after- 
_lives as I have borne the taste and fragrance of Cousin 
Melissa’s sage cheese. We do not say “Cousin,” now- 
adays in polite society, nor christen our children 
Melissa. You will find elsewhere in this book that I 


TEA, 309 


have directed you, as preliminary to frosting fruit for 
dessert-—peaches, apricots and nectarines—first to rub 
off the down (which makes the softness of the blush) 
with a rough cloth. 

It may be a weakness, but I, for one, like to remem- 
ber while admiring the pretty conceit of the glacé 
peach, how it looked before it was rubbed bright, and 
sugar-coated. 


BEVERAGES. 


Tra A LA Russe. 


Suickr fresh, juicy lemons; pare them carefully, lay 
a piece in the bottom of each cup; sprinkle with white 
sugar and pour the tea, very hot and strong, over them. 

Or, 

Send around the sliced lemon with the cups of tea, 
that each person may squeeze in the juice to please 
himself. Some leave the peel on, and profess to like 
the bitter flavor which it imparts tothe beverage. The 
truth is, the taste for this (now) fashionable refresh- 
ment is so completely an acquired liking, that you had 
best leave to your guests the matter of “peel on” or 
“peel off.’ There are those whom not even fashion 
can reconcile to the peculiar “smack” of lemon-rind 
after it has been subjected to the action of a boiling 
lignid. 

Tea a la Russe is generally, if not invariably drunk 
without cream, and is plentifully sweetened. It is very 
popular at the “high teas” and “kettle-drums,” so 
much in vogue at this time,—tea being to women, say 
the cynics, a species of mild intoxicant, of which they 
are not to be defrauded by evening dinners and their 
sequitur of black coffee. Others, who cleave to an- 
cient customs, and distrust innovations of all kinds, 
will have it that the popularity of these feminine 
carousals has its root in remorseful hankering after the 


BEVERAGES. o61 


almost obsolete “family tea.” “Since there must be 
fashionable follies,’ growl these critics, “this is as 
harmless as any that can be devised, and is, assuredly, 
less disastrous to purse and health than an evening 
crush and supper.” 

I‘or once, we say “Amen” to the croakers. The 
“kettle-drum” is objectionable in nothing except its 
absurd name, and marks a promising era in the history 
of American party-giving. 


Cotp TEA. 


Mixed tea is better cold than either black or green 
alone. Set it aside after breakfast, for luncheon or 
for tea, straining it into a perfectly clean and sweet 
bottle, and burying it in the ice. When ready to use 
it, you must filla goblet three-quarters of the way to 
the top with the clear tea; sweeten it more lavishly 
than you would hot, and fill up the glass with cracked 
ice. It is a delicious beverage in summer. Drink 
without cream. 


\ 


Iczep TEA A LA Russe. 


To each goblet of cold tea (without cream), add the 
juice of half a lemon. [ill up with pounded ice, and 
sweeten well. A glass of champagne added to this 
makes what is called Russian punch. 


Tra MiILK-PUNCH. 


1 ege beaten very light. 
1 small glass new milk. 
_ 1 cup very hot tea. 


Sugar to taste. 
16 


362 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TBA. 


Beat a teaspoonful or so of sugar with the ege; stir 
in the milk and then the hot tea, beating all up well 
together, and sweetening to taste. This is a palatable 
mixture, and is valuable for invalids who suffer much 
from weakness, or the peculiar sensation known as a 
“ eold stomach.” 


A “Cozy” ror A TEAPOT. 


This is not an article of diet, yet an accessory to good 
tea-making and enjoyable tea-drinking that deserves to 
be better known in America. It is a wadded cover or 
bag made of crotcheted worsted, or of silk, velvet or 
cashmere, stitched or embroidered as the maker may 
fancy, with a stout ribbon-elastic drawn loosely in the 
bottom. This is put over the teapot so soon as the tea 
is poured into it, and will keep the contents of the pot 
warm for an hour or more. Those who have known 
the discomfort, amounting to actual nausea, produced 
by taking a draught of lukewarm tea into an empty 
or weary stomach; or whose guests or families are 
apt to keep them waiting for their appearance at 
table until the “cheering ” (if hot) “ beverage ” lowers 
in temperature and quality so grievously that it must 
be remanded to the kitchen, and an order for fresh 
issued—will at once appreciate’ the importance of 
this simple contrivance for keeping up the heat of our 
“mild intoxicant” and keeping the temper of the 
priestess at the tea-tray down. 


CorreE with WuiprPEp CREAM. 


For six cups of coffee, of fair size, you will need 
about one cup of sweet cream, whipped light with a 


BEVERAGES. 863 


little sugar. Put into each cup the desired amount of 
sugar, and about a table-spoonful of boiling milk. Pour 
the coffee over these, and lay upon the surface of the 
hot liquid a large spoonful of the frothed cream. 
Give a gentle stir to each cup before sending them 
around. This is known to some as méringued coffee, and 
is an elegant French preparation of the popular drink. 


FrotHep Caré& av Larr. 


1 quart strong, clear coffee, strained through muslin. 

1 scant quart boiling milk. 

Whites of 3 eggs, beaten stiff. 

1 table-spoonful powdered sugar, whipped with the 
eggs. | 

Your coffee urn must be scalded clean, and while it 
is hot, pour in the coffee and milk alternately, stirring 
gently. Cover; wrap a thick cloth about the urn for 
five minutes, before it goes to table. Have ready in a 
cream-pitcher the whipped and sweetened whites. Put 
a large spoonful upon each cup of coffee as you pour 
it out, heaping it slightly in the centre. 


Froruep Cuocotate. (Very good.) 


1 cup of boiling water. 

8 pints of fresh milk. 

3 table-spoonfuls Baker’s chocolate, grated. 

5 eggs, the whites only, beaten light. 

2 table-spoonfuls of sugar, powdered for froth. 

Sweeten the chocolate to taste. ) 

Heat the milk to scalding. Wet up the chocolate 
with the boiling water and when the milk is hot, stir 
this into it. Simmer gently ten minutes, stirring fre- 


364 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


quently. Boil up briskly once, take from the fire, 
sweeten to taste, taking care not to make it too sweet, 
and stir in the whites of two eggs, whipped stiff, with- 
out sugar. Pour into the chocolate pot or pitcher, 
which should be well heated. Have ready in a cream 
pitcher, the remaining whites whipped up with the. 
powdered sugar. Cover the surface of each cup with the 
sweetened méringue, before distributing to the guests. 

If you like, you can substitute scented chocolate 
for Baker’s. 

Chocolate or cocoa is a favorite luncheon beverage, 
and many ladies, especially those who have spent much 
time abroad, have adopted the French habit of break- 
fasting upon rolls and a cup of chocolate. 


MiItLED CHOCOLATE. 


3 heaping table-spoonfuls of grated chocolate. 

1 quart of milk. 

Wet the chocolate with boiling water. Scald the 
milk and stir in the chocolate-paste. Simmer ten 
minutes; then, if you have no regular “ muller,” put 
your sylabub-churn into the boiling liquid and churn 
steadily, without taking from the fire, until it is a 
yeasty froth. Pour into a chocolate-pitcher, and serve 
at once. 

This is esteemed a great delicacy by chocolate loy- 
ers, and is easily made. 


Soyrr’s Caré av Larr. 


1 cup best coffee, freshly roasted, but unground. 
2 cups of boiling water. 
1 quart boiling milk. 


‘BEVERAGES. 365 


Put the coffee into a clean, dry kettle or tin pail ; fit 
on a close top and set in a saucepan of boiling water. 
Shake it every few moments, without opening it, until 
you judge that the coffee-grains must be heated 
through. If, on lifting the cover, you find that the 
contents of the inner vessel are very hot and smoking, 
pour over them the boiling water directly from the 
tea-kettle. Cover the inner vessel closely and set on 
the side of the range, where it will keep very hot with- 
out boiling for twenty minutes. Then, add the boil- 
ing milk, let all stand together for five minutes more, 
and strain through thin muslin into the coffee-urn, 
Use loaf-sugar in sweetening. 

The flavor of this is said to be very fine. 


Waite LemMonabe. 

3 lemons. 

3 cups loaf sugar. 

2 glasses white wine. 

2 quarts fresh milk, boiling hot. 

Wash the lemons, grate all the peel from one into 
a bowl; add the sugar, and squeeze the juice of the 
three over these. After two hours add the wine, 
and then, quickly, the boiling milk. Strain through a 
flannel jelly-bag. Cool and set in the ice until wanted. 


CLARET Cup. 


1 (quart) bottle of claret. 

1 (pint) bottle of champagne. 

% pint best sherry. 

2 lemons, sliced. 

+ pound loaf sugar dissolved in 1 cup cold water. 


366 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


Let the sugar, water and sliced lemon steep together 
half an hour before adding to the rest of the ingre- 
dients. Shake all well together in a very large pitcher 
twenty or thirty times, and make thick with pounded 
ice, when you are ready to use it. 

There is no better receipt for the famous “ claret 
cup ” than this. 


Very Fine Porrerer. — 


1 pint bottle best porter. 

2 glasses pale sherry. 

1 lemon peeled and sliced. 

4 pint ice-water. 

6 or 8 lumps of loaf sugar. 

4 grated nutmeg. 

Pounded ice. 

This mixture has been used satisfactorily by inva- 
lids, for whom the pure porter was too heavy, causing 
biliousness and heartburn. 


GiIncER CoRDIAL. 


2 table-spoonfuls ground ginger, fresh and strong. 

1 lb. loaf sugar. 

% pint best whiskey. 

1 quart red currants. 

Juice of 1 lemon. 

Crush the currants in a stone vessel with a wooden 
beetle, and strain them through a clean, coarse cloth, 
over the sugar. Stir until the sugar is dissolved ; add 
the lemon, the whiskey, and the ginger. Put it into a 
demijohn or a stone jug, and set upon.the cellar-floor 
for a week, shaking up vigorously every day. At the end 


BEVERAGES. 367 


of that time, strain through a cloth and bottle. Seal 
and wire the corks, and lay the bottles on their sides 
in a cool, dry place. 

An excellent summer drink is made by putting two 
table-spoonfuls of this mixture into a goblet of iced 
water. It is far safer for quenching the thirst, when 
one is overheated, than plain ice-water or lemonade. 


TMirx-Puncn. (Hot.) 


1 quart milk, warm from the cow. 

2 glasses best sherry wine. 

4 table-spoonfuls powdered sugar. 

4 egos, the yolks only, beaten light. 

Cinnamon and nutmeg to taste. 

Bring the milk to the boiling point. Beat up the 
yolks and sugar together; add the wine; pour into a 
pitcher, and mix with it, stirring all the time, the 
boiling milk. Pour from one vessel to another six 
times, spice, and serve as soon as it can be swallowed 
without scalding the throat. 

This is said to be an admirable remedy for a bad 
cold if taken in the first stages, just before going to 
bed at night. 

Muuiep ALE. 


3 egos, the yolks only. 

A pint of good ale. 

2 table-spoonfuls loaf sugar. 

A pinch of ginger, and same of nutmeg. 

Heat the ale scalding hot, but do not let it quite 
boil. Take from the fire and stir in the eggs beate: 
with the sugar, and the spice. Pour from pitcher to 
pitcher, five or six times, until it froths, and drink hot. 


368 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Mou.uep WInez. 


2 egos, beaten very light with the sugar. 

1 table-spoonful white sugar. 

2 full glasses white wine. 

, % cup boiling water. 

A little nutmeg. 

Heat the water, add the wine; cover closely and 
bring almost to a boil. Pour this carefully over the 
beaten egg and sugar; set in a vessel of boiling water 
and stir constantly until it begins to thicken. Pour 
into asilver goblet, grate the nutmeg on the top, and let 
the invalid drink it as hot as it can be swallowed with- 
out suffering. 


A Summer Drink. (Very good.) 


2 lbs. Catawba grapes. 

3 table-spoonfuls loaf sugar. 

1 cup of cold water. 

Squeeze the grapes hard in a coarse cloth, when you 
have picked them from the stems. Wring out every 
drop of juice; add the sugar, and when this is dis- 
solved, the water, surround with ice until very cold; 
put a lump of ice into a pitcher, pour the mixture 
upon it, and drink at once. | . 

You can add more sugar if you like, or if the grapes 
are not quite ripe. 


Rum Miix-Punou. 


1 cup milk, warm from the cow. 
1 table-spoonful of best rum. 
1 egg, whipped light with a little sugar. 


A little nutineg. 


BEVERAGES. 369 


Pour the rum upon the egg-and-sugar; stir for a 
moment and add the milk; strain and drink. 

It is a useful stimulant for consumptives, and should 
be taken before breakfast. 


CLEAR Puncu. 
% cup ice-water. 
1 glass white wine (or very good whiskey). 
White of 1 egg whipped stiff with the sugar. 
1 table-spoonful of loaf sugar. 
A sprig of mint. 
Pounded ice. 
Mix well together and give to the patient, ice-cold. 


CuRRANT AND Raspperry SuRve. 


4 quarts ripe currants. 

3 quarts red raspberries. 

4 lbs. loaf sugar. 

1 quart best brandy. 

Pound the fruit in a stone jar, or wide-mouthed 
erock, with a wooden beetle. Squeeze out every drop 
of the juice ; put this into a porcelain, enamel, or very 
clean bell-metal kettle, and boil hard ten minutes. 
Bring to the boil quickly, as slow heating and boiling 
has a tendency to darken all acid syrups. Put in the 
sugar at the end of the ten minutes, and boil up once 
to throw the scum to the top. Take it off; skim, let 
it get perfectly cold, skim off all remaining impurities, 
add the brandy and shake hard for five minutes. Bot- 
tle ; seal the corks, and lay the bottles on their sides in 
dry sawdust. 

Put up ae way, “shrub ” will keep several years, 


370 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


and be the better for age. It is a refreshing and slight- 
ly medicinal drink, when mixed with iced water. 


STRAWBERRY SHRUB. 

4 quarts of ripe strawberries. 

The juice of 4 lemons. 

4 ibs. of loaf sugar. 

1 pint best brandy, or colorless whiskey. 

Mash the berries and squeeze them through a bag. 
Add the strained lemon-juice; bring quickly to a fast 
boil, and after it has boiled five minutes, put in the 
sugar and cook five minutes more. Skim as it cools, 
and, when quite cold, add the brandy. Be sure that 
your bottles are perfectly clean. Rinse them out with 
soda-and-water; then, with boiling water. The corks 
must be new. Soak them in cold water; drive into 
the bottles ; cut off even with the top; seal with bees- 
wax and rosin, melted in equal quantities, and lay the 
bottles on their sides in dry sawdust. 

Strawberries, preserved in any way, do not keep so 
well as some other fruits. ence, more care must be 
taken in putting them up. 


Lemon Surv. 


Juice of 6 lemons, and grated peel of two. 

Grated peel of 1 orange. 

3 lbs. loaf sugar. 

3 pints of cold water. 

8 pints of brandy or white whidheg 

Steep the grated peel in the brandy for two days. 
Boil the sugar-and-water to a thick syrup, and when it 
is coo}, strain into it the lemon-juice and the liquor. 


BEVERAGES. ois 


Shake up well for five minutes, and bottle. Seal the 
bottles and lay them on their sides. 


CuRAGOA. 


Grated peel and the juice of 4 fine oranges. 

1 lb. of rock-candy. 

1 cup of cold water. 

1 teaspoonful cinnamon. 

4 teaspoonful nutmeg. 

A pinch of cloves. 

1 pint very fine brandy. 

Break the candy to pieces in a mortar, or, by pound- 
ing it ina cloth, cover with cold water and heat toa 
boil, by which time the candy should be entirely dis- 
solved. Add the orange-juice, boil up once and take 
from the fire. When cold, skim, put in the spices, 
peel, and brandy; put it into a stone jug, and let it 
stand for a fortnight in a cool place. Shake every 
day, and at the end of that time strain through flan- 
nel, and bottle. 

This is an excellent flavoring for pudding sauces, 
custards, trifles, ete. For tipsy Charlottes and like 
desserts, it is far superior to brandy or wine. 


Novyav. 


4 pound sweet almonds. 

Juice of 3 lemons, and grated peel of one. 
2 pounds loaf sugar. 

3 teaspoonfuls extract of bitter-almonds. 

2 table-spoonfuls clear honey. 

1 pint best brandy. 

1 table-spoonful orange-flower water. 


372 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Blanch and pound the almonds, mixing the orange. 
flower water with them to prevent oiling. Add the 
sugar and brandy, and let these ingredients lie together 
for two days, shaking the jug frequently. Put in the 
lemon, honey and flavoring; shake hard, and leave in 
the jug a week longer, shaking it every day. 

Strain through very fine muslin, bottle and seal. 

The flavor of this is delicious in custards, ete. Asa 
beverage, it must be mixed with ice-water. 


Rost Syrup. 


1} pound of fresh rose-leaves. 

2 pounds loaf sugar. 

Whites of 2 eggs, whipped light. © 

1 pint best brandy. 

1 quart cold water. 

Boil the sugar and water to a clear syrup, beat in the 
whites of the eggs, and, when it has boiled up again 
well, take from the fire. Skim as it cools, and when a 
little more than blood-warm, pour it over half a pound 
of fresh rose-leaves. Cover it closely, and let it alone 
for twenty-four hours. Strain, and put in the second 
supply of leaves. On the third day put in the last half 
pound, and on the fourth, strain through a muslin bag. 
Add the brandy; strain again through a double linen 
bag, shake well and bottle. 

This liqueur is delightful as a beverage, mixed with 
iced water, and invaluable where rose-flavor is desired 
for custards, creams or icing. 

In the height of the rose-season, the requisite quan- 
tity of leaves may easily be procured. The receipt is 
nearly fifty years old. 


BEVERAGES. ote 


ORANGE CREAM. 


12 large, very sweet oranges. 

2 pounds loaf sugar. 

1 quart milk, warm from the cow. 

1 quart best French brandy. 

Grate the peel from three of the oranges, and reserve 
for use in preparing the liqueur. Peel the rest, and 
use the juice only. Pour this with the brandy over the 
sugar and grated rind ; put into a stone jug, and let it 
stand three days, shaking twice a day. 

Then boil the milk, which must be new, and pour hot 
over the mixture, stirring it in well. Cover closely. 
When it is quite cold, strain through a flannel bag. 
Put in clean, sweet bottles, seal the corks, and lay the 
bottles on their sides in sawdust. 

It will keep well, but will be fit for drinking in a 
week. Mix withiced water as a beverage. It is a fine 
flavoring liqueur for trifles, ete. 


VANILLA LIQUEUR. 


4 fresh vanilla beans. 

4 pounds loaf sugar. 

1 quart cold water. 

1 pint best brandy, or white whiskey. 

Split the beans and cut intoinch lengths. Put them 
to soak in the brandy for three days. Boil the sugar 
and water until it is a thick, clear syrup. Skim well, 
and strain the vanilla brandy into it. Shake, and pour 
into small bottles. 

I have called this a liqueur, but it is so highly 
flavored as to be unfit for drinking, except as it is used 


374 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


in small quantities in effervescing beverages. But it 
imparts an exquisite flavor to creams, whips, cakes, etc., 
that cannot be obtained from the distilled extracts. 

The receipt was given to me as a modern prize by 
an expert in cookery, but in reading it over there 
floated to me a delicious breath from a certain store- 
room, the treasures of which to my childish imagina- 
tion rivalled those of the “island of delights,” where 
the streams were curagoa and capillaire, and the rocks 
loaf sugar. Led by this wandering zephyr of early as- 
sociation, I did not cease my rummaging until I un- 
earthed the same receipt from an old cookery-book be- 
queathed to me by my mother. 


FLAVORING EXTRACTS. 


LEMON. 


The peel of 6 lemons. 

1 quart white whiskey or brandy. 

Cut the rind into thin shreds; half fill three or four 
wide-mouthed bottles with it, and pour the spirits upon 
it. Cork tightly, and shake now and then for the first 
month. ‘This will keep for years, and be better for 
age. It has this. advantage over the distilled extract 
sold in the stores—country-stores especially, lemon ex- 
tract being especially liable to spoil if kept for a few 
months, and tasting, when a little old, unfortunately 
like spirits of turpentine. 


ORANGE. 


Prepare as you would lemon-peel. Put into small 
bottles. It is said to be an excellent stomachic taken 
in the proportion of a teaspoonful to a glass of iced 
water, and slightly sweetened. 

It is very nice for flavoring the icing of orange cake. 


VANILLA. 
2 vanilla beans. 
4 pint white whiskey. 
Split the bean, and clip with your scissors into 
bits, scraping out the seeds which possess the finest 
flavoring qualities. Put the seed and husks into the 


376 ' BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


bottom of a small bottle; fill up with the spirits, and 
cork tightly. Shake it often for a few weeks, after 
which it will be fit for use—and never spod. 


Birrer ALMOND. 


4 pound of bitter almonds. 

1 pint white whiskey. 

Blanch the almonds, and shred (not pound them), 
using for this purpose a sharp knife that will not bruise 
the kernels. Put them into a wide-mouthed bottle; 
pour in the spirits, cork tightly ; shake every other day 
for a fortnight. It will then be fit for use. Strain it 
as you have occasion to use it, throngh a bit of cloth 
held over the mouth of the bottle. 





I introduce these directions for the domestic manu- 
facture of such extracts as are most used in cooking, 
chiefly, but not altogether for the benefit of country 
readers. The land—town and country—is so deluged 
now with makers and peddlers of “ flavoring extracts,” 
that some, of necessity, must be indifferent in quality, if 
not hurtful. I have purchased from a _ respectable 
druggist in a large city, rose-water that smelled like 
ditch-water, and tasted worse; essence of lemon that 
could not be distinguished by the sense of taste or smell 
from varnish; and vanilla that was like nothing I had 
ever tasted or smelled before—least of all like helio- 
trope, new-mown hay, or vanilla-bean. 

The answer to my complaint in each of these cases 
was the same. “I cannot understand it,madam. The 
extract is of Our Own Make, and there is no better in 
the American market ! ” 


BEVERAGES. 377 

In country stores the risk of getting a poor article is 
of course much greater. To this day, I recall with a 
creep of the flesh that drives a cold moisture to the 
surface, the unspoken (at the moment) agony with 
- which I detected something wrong, and very far wrong 
in some nice-looking custards, the manufacture of 
which I had myself superintended, and that formed 
the staple of the dessert, to which I set down a couple 
of unexpected guests. As the first spoonful touched 
my tongue, I looked at John, and John looked (pity- 
ingly) at me! By mutual consent, we began to press 
the fruit upon our friends, and I hastened the entrance 
of the coffee-tray. 

After dinner, we snatched a few words from one 
another, aside. | 

“The cook’s carelessness!” said he. “ She got hold 
of the liniment-bottle by mistake.” 

“Tt was a fresh bottle of ‘pure vanilla!’” answered 
Isolemnly. “I saw her draw the cork! ” 

It was after this experience that I was assured there 
was “no better article in the American market.” 


PRESERVED FRUITS, CAN. 
DIES, ETC 


AppLteE Marmanabe. pfs 


2 or 8 dozen tart, juicy apples, pared, cored and 
sliced. 

A. little cold water. 

# pound of sugar to every pint of juice. 

Juice of 2 lemons. 

Stew the apples until tender, in just enough cold | 
water to cover them. Drain off the juice through a 
cullender, and put into a porcelain or enamel kettle ; 
stirring into it three-quarters of a pound of sugar for 
every pint of the liquid.. Boil until it begins to jelly ; 
strain the lemon-juice into it; put in the apples and 
stew pretty fast, stirring almost constantly, until the 
compote is thick and smooth. (If the apples are not 
soft all through, you had better rub them through the 
cullender before adding them to the boiling syrup.) 

Put up the marmalade in small jars or cups, and 
paste paper covers over them as you would jelly, hay- 
ing first fitted a round of tissue-paper, dipped in 
brandy, upon the surface of the marmalade. Keep 
cool and dry. | . 

The simple precaution of covering jellies, jams, and 
marmalade with brandied tissne-paper, will save the 
housekeeper much anneyance and inconvenience by 
protecting the conserve from mould. Should the fun- 


PRESERVED FRUIT, CANDIES, ETC. 379 


gus form inside the upper cover, the inner will effect- 
ually shield the precious sweet. I have seen the space 
left by the shrinking of the cooled jelly between it and 
the metallic, or paper cover of the glass, or jar, com- 
pletely filled with blue-gray mould—a miniature forest 
that might appear well under the microscope, but was 
hideous to housewifely eyes. Yet, when the tissue- 
paper was carefully removed, the jelly was seen to be 
bright, firm, and unharmed in flavor as in appearance. 


PEAR AND Quince MarMA.aDE. pfx 

2 dozen juicy pears. 

10 fine, ripe quinces. 

Juice of 3 lemons. 

2 pound of sugar to every pound of fruit after it is 
ready for cooking. 

A little cold water. 

Pare and core the fruit, and throw it into cold water 
while you stew parings and cores in a little water to 
make the syrup. When they have boiled to pieces 
strain off the liquid; when cold, put in the sliced fruit 
and bring toafast boil. It should be thick and smooth 
before the sugar and lemon-juice go in. Cook steadily 
an hour longer, working with a wooden spoon to a rich 
jelly. When done, put into small jars while warm, but 
do not cover until cold. 


ORANGE MarMALaDE. Pa 


18 sweet, ripe oranges. 

6 pounds best white sugar. 

Grate the peel from four oranges, and reserve it for 
the marmalade. The rinds of the rest will not be 


230 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA, 


needed. Pare the fruit carefully, removing the inmer 
white skin as well as the yellow. Slice the orange; re. 
move the seeds; put the frnit and grated peel in a 
porcelain or enamel saucepan (if the latter, those made 
by Lalange and Grosjean are the best), and boil stead- 
ily until the pulp is reduced to a smooth mass. Take 
from the fire and rub quickly through a clean, bright 
cullender, as the color is easily injured. Stir in the 
sugar, return to the fire, and boil fast, stirring con- 
stantly half an hour, or until thick. Put while warm 
into small jars, but do not cover until cold. 
Lhis is a handsome and delicious sweetmeat. 


DutunpDEE ORANGE MARMALADE. 


12 fine, ripe oranges. 

4 pounds white sugar—the best. 

3 lemons—all the juice, and the rind of one lemon. 

Cut the peel of four oranges into small dice, and the 
rind of one lemon. Stew them in clear water until 
tender. Slice and seed the oranges; put them into a 
preserving-kettle with the juice of the lemons and cook 
until all are boiled down to a smooth pulp. Rub this 
through a cullender; return to the saucepan with the 
sugar, and keep at a fast boil until quite thick. Stir 
in the “ dice ” from which the water has been drained ; 
boil two minutes longer and pour into small jars. 
Cover with brandied tissue-paper when quite cold, 
pressed close to the surface of the marmalade, then, 
with metal or stout paper tops. 

All marmalade should be stirred constantly after the 
sugar goes In. 

Us aris or granulated sugar for ales marmalade 





PRESERVED FRUIT, CANDIES, ETC. 381 


—not powdered. The crystals are said to make it 
more sparkling. 
Canpiep CHERRIES. 


2 quarts large, ripe, red cherries, stoned eurefir'ly. 

2 lbs. loaf sugar. 

1 cup water. 

Make a syrup of the sugar and water and boil until 
it is thick enough to “ pull,” as for candy. Remove to 
the side of the range, and stir until it shows signs of 
granulation. It is well to stir frequently while it is 
cooking, to secure this end. When there are grains, or 
-erystals on the spoon, drop in the cherries, a few at a 
time. Let each supply lie in the boiling syrup two 
minutes, when remove toa sieve set overa dish. Shake 
gently but long, then turn the cherries out upon a cool, 
broad dish, and dry in a sunny window. 


GLACE CHERRIES. 


Make as above, but do not let the syrup granulate. 
It should not be stirred at all, but when it “ropes,” 
pour it over the cherries, which should be spread 
out upon a large, flat dish. When the syrup is almost 
cold, take these out, one by one, with a teaspoon, and 
spread upon a dish to dry in the open air. 

If nicely managed, these are nearly as good as those 
put up by professional confectioners. Keep in a dry, 


cool place. 
Canpiep Lremon-PEEt. 


12 fresh, thick-skinned lemons. 
4 lbs. loaf sugar. A little powdered alum. 
3 cups clear water. 


382 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


Cut the peel from the lemons in long, thin strips, 
and lay in strong salt and water all night. Wash 
them in three waters next morning, and boil them until 
tender in soft water. They should be almost trans- 
lucent, but not so soft as to break. Dissolve a little 
alum—about half a teaspoonful, when powdered—in 
enough cold water to cover the peel, and let it lie in it 
for two hours. By this time the syrup should be ready. 
Stir the sugar into three cups of water, add the sirain- 
ed juice of three lemons and boil it until it “ropes ” 
from the end of the spoon. Put the lemon-peels into 
this, simmer gently half an hour; take them out and 
spread upon a sieve. Shake, not hard, but often, tossing 
up the peels now and then, until they are almost dry. 
Sift granulated sugar over them and lay out upon a 
table spread with a clean cloth. Admit the air freely, 
and, when perfectly dry, pack in a glass jar. 


Marie Syrovp. ef 


6 lbs. maple sugar—pure. 

6 large coffee-cups of water. 

Break the sugar to pieces with a stone or hammer; 
-eover with the water—cold—and let it stand until it is 
nearly, or quite melted. Put over the fire and bring 
to a gentle boil, leaving the kettle uncovered. Boil, 
without stirring, until it is a pretty thick syrup. 

If possible, buy maple sugar direct from the “ sugar 
camps,” or their vicinity, and in large blocks. The 
“pretty scolloped cakes offered by peanut venders at 
treble the price of the genuine article, are largely 
adulterated with other substances. 


PRESERVED FRUIT, CANDIES, ETC. 383 © 


CRANBERRIES. 


Instead of expending my own time in covering a 
couple of sheets of -paper with receipts touching this 
invaluable berry, | would direct the reader’s attention 
to the very admirable and comprehensive circular issued 
by Messrs. C. G. anp E. W. Cranz, as an accompani- 
ment to their “First Premium: Star Brand Cran- 
berries,” raised in Ocean County, New Jersey. Ihave 
never seen finer, or tasted more delicious berries than 
those sent out with their stamp upon the crates, and I 
consider that Iam doing my fellow-housekeepers a sub- 
stantial service by this unqualified commendation of 
the same. ‘The berries are larger, firmer and of richer 
flavor than those one is accustomed to see in the markets 
(and to buy, knowing no better), and certainly delivered 
in a more sightly and wholesome condition. 

The receipts go with them, and are clear, safe, and 
excellent. 

The plantations on which the “Star Berries” are 
grown are in Cassville, Ocean County, New Jersey. 


Pranur Oanpy. (Very nice.) 


1 scant pint of molasses. 

4 quarts of peanuts, measured before they are shelled. 

2 table-spoonfuls of vanilla. 

1 teaspoonful of soda. 

Boil the molasses until it hardens in cold water, 
when dropped from the spoon. Stir in the vanilla— 
then the soda,dry. Lastly, the shelled peanuts. ‘Turn 
out into shallow pans well buttered, and press it down 
smooth with a wooden spoon. 


* 384 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


I can heartily recommend the candy made according 
to this receipt as being unrivalled of its kind. 

The molasses should be good in quality, and the 
peanuts freshly roasted. 


Dorry Divete’s Vinegar Canpy. ea 


3 cups white sugar. 

1} cups clear vinegar. 

Stir the sugar into the vinegar until thoroughly dis- 
solved; heat to a gentle boil and stew, uncovered, 
until it ropes from the tip of the spoon. Turn ont 
upon broad dishes, well buttered, and cool. * So soon. 
as you are able to handle it without burning your 
fingers, begin to pull it, using only the tips of your 
fingers. It can be “pulled” beautifully white and 
porous. 

Those who have read Sophie May’s delightful “ Lit- 
tle Prudy,” and “Dotty Dimple” series, will remem- 
ber the famous “ vinegar candy.” 


Lemon-Cruam Canpy. rf 


6 pounds best white sugar. 

Strained juice of 2 lemons. 

Grated peel of 1 lemon. 

1 teaspoonful of soda. 

3 cups clear water. 

Steep the grated peel of the lemon in the juice for 
an hour; strain, squeezing the cloth hard to get out all 
the strength. Pour the water over the sugar, and, when 
nearly dissolved, set it over the fire and bring to a boil. 
Stew steadily until it hardens in cold water; stir in the 


PRESERVED FRUIT, CANDIES, ETO. B85 


lemon; boil one-minute; add the dry soda, stirring in 
well; and, instantly, turn out upon broad, shallow 
dishes. Pull, as soon as you can handle it, into 
long white ropes, and cut into lengths when brittle. 

Vanilla cream candy is made in the same way, with 
the substitution of vanilla flavoring for the lemon-juice 
and peel. 

These home-made candies furnish pleasant diversions 
for the children on winter evening and rainy days, 
and are far more wholesome than those sold in the 
shops. 


CHocoLAte CARAMELS. 


1 cup rich, sweet cream. 

1 cup brown sugar. 

1 cup white sugar. 

7 table-spoonfuls vanilla chocolate. 

1 table-spoonful corn-starch, stirred into the cream. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

Vanilla flavoring. 

Soda, the size of a pea, stirred into cream. 

Boil all the ingredients except the chocolate and 
vanilla extract, half an hour, stirring to prevent burn- 
ing. Ieserve half of the cream and wet up the choco- 
late in it, adding a very little water if necessary. 
Draw the saucepan to the side of the range, and stir 
this in well; put back on the fire and boil ten minutes 
longer, quite fast, stirring constantly. When it makes 
a hard glossy coat on the spoon, it is done. Add the 
vanilla after taking it from the range. Turn into 
shallow dishes well buttered. When cold enough to 
retain the impression of the knife, cut into squares. 


Li 


386 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TBA. 


Marsiep Cream Canpy. (Good.) 


4 cups white sugar. 

1 cup rich sweet cream. 

1 cup water. 

1 table-spoonful of butter. 

1 table-spoonful vinegar. 7 

Bit of soda the size of a pea, stirred in cream. 

Vanilla extract. 

3 table-spoonfuls of chocolate— grated. 

Boil all the ingredients except half the cream, the 
chocolate and vanilla, together very fast until it is a 
thick, ropy syrup. Heat in a separate saucepan the 
reserved cream, into which you must have rubbed the 
grated chocolate. Let it stew until quite thick, and 
when the candy is done, add a cupful of it to this, 
stirring in well. 

Turn the uncolored syrup out upon broad dishes, 
and pour upon it, here and there, great spoonfuls of 
the chocolate mixture. Pull as soon as you can handle 
it with comfort, and with the tips of your fingers only. 
If deftly manipulated, it will be streaked with white 
and brown. | 


CHocoLATE Cream Drops. 


1 cake vanilla chocolate. 

3 cups of powdered sugar. 

1 cup soft water. 

2 table-spoonfuls corn-starch or arrow-root. 

1 table-spoonful butter. 

2 teaspoonfuls vanilla. 

Wash from the butter every grain of salt. Stir the 


PRESERVED FRUIT, CANDIES, ETC. 387 


sugar and water together; mix in the corn-starch, and 
bring to a boil, stirring constantly to induce granula- 
tion. Boil about ten minutes, when add the butter. 
Take from the fire and beat as you would eggs, until 
it begins to look like granulated cream. Put in the 
vanilla; butter your hands well, make the cream into 
balls about the size of a large marble, and lay upon a 
greased dish. 

Meanwhile, the chocolate should have been melted 
by putting it (grated fine) into a tin pail or saucepan 
and plunging it into another of boiling water. When 
it is a black syrup, add about two table-spoonfuls of 
powdered sugar to it, beat smooth, turn out upon a hot 
dish, and roll the cream-balls in it until sufficiently 
coated. Lay upon a cold dish to dry, taking care that 
they do not touch one another. 


SucarR Canpy.f 


6 cups of white sugar. 

3 cup of butter. 

2 table-spoonfuls of vinegar. 

4 teaspoonful of soda. 

1 cup cold water. Vanilla flavoring. 

Pour water and vinegar upon the sugar, and let 
them stand, without stirring, until the sugar is melted. 
Set over the fire and boil fast until it “ropes.” Put 
in the butter; boil hard two minutes longer, add the 
dry soda, stir it in and take at once from the fire. 
Flavor when it ceases to effervesce. 

Turn out upon greased dishes, and pull with the tips 
of your fingers until white. 


THE SCRAP-BAG. 


For Suppen Hoarsynuss. pf 


Roast a lemon in the oven, turning now and then, 
that all sides may be equally cooked. It should not 
crack, or burst, but be soft all through. Just before 
going to bed take the lemon (which should be very 
hot), cut a piece from the top, and fill it with as much 
white sugar as it will hold. 

“ Chock-full—do you mean?” asked an old gentle- 
man to whom I recommended the palatable remedy. 

“If that is very full—pressed down, and running 
over—I mean chock-full!” I replied. 

Eat all the sugar, filling the lemon with more, as you 
find it becoming acid. 

This simple remedy induces gentle perspiration, be- 
sides acting favorably upon the clogged membranes of 
the throat. I have known it to prove wonderfully efi- 
cacious in removing severe attacks of hoarseness. 


ANOTHER, 


And far less pleasant prescription, is a teaspoonful of 
vinegar made thick with common salt. Having my- 
self been, in earlier years, more than once the grateful 
victim of its severely benevolent agency, I cannot but 
endorse the dose. 

But—try the lemon first. 


THE SCRAP-BAG. 389 


For Sorz Turoar. es 


1 drachm chlorate of potassa dissolved in 1 cupful 
of hot water. 

Let it cool; take a table-spoonful three times a day, 
and gargle with the same, every hour. 

Before retiring at night, rub the outside of the 
throat, especially the soft portions opposite the ton- 
sils, with a little cold water, made so thick with com- 
mon salt that the crystals will scratch the skin smartly. 
Do this faithfully until there is a fair degree of external 
irritation ; then, bind a bit of flannel about the throat. 

Free use of cracked or pounded ice is also admir- 
able for sore throat of every kind. The patient 
should hold bits of ice in his mouth and let them slow- 
ly dissolve. 

Desperate cases of ulcerated sore throat are some- 
times relieved by the constant use of this and the 
chlorate of potassa gargle. 


For a Covuan. 


Eat slowly, three or four times a day, six lumps of 
sugar, saturated with the very dest whiskey you can get. 

Having tested this “old woman’s prescription” for 
myself, and found in it the messenger of healing to a 
cough of several months’ standing which had set phy- 
sicians and cod-liver oil at defiance, I write it down 
here without scruples or doubt. 


For CuoLtera Symptoms, >fa 


Summer complaint, or any of the numerous forms 
of diseased bowels—pin a bandage of red flannel as 


390 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


tightly about the abdomen as is consistent with com, 
fort, having first heated it well at the fire or register. 
The application is inexpressibly soothing to the racked 
and inflamed intestines, and will, sometimes, combined 
with perfect quiet on the part of the patient, and judi- 
cious diet, cure even dysentery without medicine. Per- 
sons who have chronic maladies of this class should 
wear the red flannel bandage coustantly. 

For years, this has been my invariable treatment of 
the disorders which are, particularly in the summer, 
the torment of children and terror of mothers, and the 
results have been most gratifying. I keep in what 
may be called my “accident drawer,’ red flannel, 
divided into bandages of various lengths, and to these 
is recourse had in slight, and even violent cases, in- 
stead of to drugs. If the patient is suffering in- 
tense pain, steep a flannel pad large enough to cover 
the affected part,in hot spirits (you may add a little 
landanum in severe cases) and bind upon the abdomen 
with the flannel bandage, renewing whenever the suf- 
ferer feels that it is growing cold. 

Above all things else, keep the patient quiet in bed, 
if possible, but in a recumbent position—and the feet 
warm with flannel or bottles of hot water. These are 
always preferable to bricks, or hot boards for warming 
the extremities, being clean, safe and good preservers 
of heat. 

The diet should be light and nourishing, avoiding 
liquids and acids as much as possible. Let the patient 
quench his thirst by holding small bits of ice in his 
mouth, or, if hermust drink, let him have mucilaginous 
beverages, such as gum-arabic water. The burning 


' THE SCRAP-BAG. 391 


thirst consequent upon these diseases may be measur- 
ably allayed by eating, very slowly, dry gum arabic, 
which has, likewise, curative qualities. 


Mustrarp Puasrers. pf 


It should be more generally known that a few drops 
of sweet oil, or lard, rubbed lightly over the surface of 
a mustard plaster, will prevent it from blistering the 
skin. The patient may fearlessly wear it all night, 
if he can bear the burning better than the pain it has 
relieved temporarily, and be none the worse for the 
application. This, 7 4now, to be infallible, and those 
who have felt the torture of a mustard-blister, should 
rejoice to become. acquainted with this easy and sure 
preventive. 

A mustard plaster is an excellent remedy for severe 
and obstinate nausea. It must be applied, hot, to the 
pit of the stomach. In less serious cases, flannel, dip- 
ped in hot camphor, wrung out and applied, still smok- 
ing, will often succeed. A drop of camphor in a sin- 
gle teaspoonful of water, given every twenty minutes, 
for an hour or s0, is also a good palliative of nausea. 


For Nausea. >} 


But the specific for nausea, from whatever cause, is 
Hosrorp’s Acip Puospratr, a by no means unpleasant 
medicine. Put twenty drops into a goblet of ice- 
water ; add a little sugar, and let the patient sip it, a tea- 
spoonful, at a time, every ten or fifteen minutes. Or, 
where more active measures are required, give a drop 
in a teaspoonful of water, every five minutes for an 


392 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


hour. At the same time use the mustard plaster as 
above directed. 

My reader, to whatever “school” she may belong, 
would not frown at what may seem to her like unlaw- 
ful dabbling in the mysteries of medicine, had she 
stood with me beside the bed of a woman who had not 
been able, for three days and nights, to retain a parti- 
cle of nourishment upon her stomach ; who was pro- 
nounced by physicians to be actually dying of nausea 
—and seen her relieved of all dangerous symptoms, 
within the hour, by the harmless palliative I have 
named. 

Inter nos, sister mine, in the matter of drugs I am 
heterodox, choosing, in ninety-nine cases out of a hun- 
dred, to trust dear old, Mother Nature, and skillful, in- 
telligent nursing. But to become a good nurse one 
should possess some knowledge of Materia Medica, 
especially in the matter of what are known as 
“simples.” 


For Cuapprp Hanns anv Lips. ef 


First, wash the hands with Indian, or oatmeal and 
water, and wipe them perfectly dry. Then—do this 
just before retiring for the night—rub the chapped 
members well with melted—not hot—mutton-tallow, 
“tried out,” pur et simple, or beaten up, while warm, 
with a little rose-water. Lubricate thoroughly; draw 
a pair of old kid gloves—never black ones—upon 
your hands, and do not remove them until morning. 
A single application will usually effect a cure, but 
should it fail, repeat the treatment for two or three 
nights. | 


THE SCRAP-BAG. 393 


For Sore Eyes. >} 


Beat up half a teaspoonful of powdered alum to a 
curd with the white of an egg; spread upon soft linen, 
and lay on the inflamed lid. It. is a soothing, and often 
potent remedy. 

Strong tea, black, green, or mixed, strained and cold, 
is an excellent eye-wash. At night, lay cold tea-leaves 
within a soft linen bag, squeeze almost dry, and bind 
over the eye. 

For a stye, many physicians advise the sufferer to 
take internally brewer’s yeast, a table-spoonful at a 
dose. It is sometimes singularly successful, being a 


good purifier of the blood. 


Mixture ror Cieantne Biack Croru, or Worstrrep 
DRESSES. 

Equal quantities of strong black tea and alcohol. 

Fine scented soap. 

Dip a sponge in boiling water, squeeze as dry as you 
ean, and rub while hot, upon the sweet soap. Wet with 
the mixture of tea and alcohol, and sponge the worsted 
material to be cleaned, freely. Rub the spots hard, 
washing out the sponge frequently in hot water, then 
squeezing it. Finally, sponge off the whole surface of 
the cloth quickly with the mixture, wiping always in 
one direction if you are cleansing broadcloth. 

Iron, while very damp, on the wrong side. 


CLEANSING CREAM. 


1 ounce pure glycerine. 
1 ounce ether. 


304 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


1 ounce spirits of wine. 

+ pound best Castile soap. 

4+ pound ammonia. 

The soap must be scraped fine, the rest of the mate- 
rials worked into it. . 

To use it, wet a soft flannel cloth with it; rub grease _ 
and dirt-spots upon worsted garments or black silk, un- 
til the cloth is well impregnated with the cream. Then 
sponge off with clean hot water, and rub dry with a 
clean cloth. 

To Crean Marnie. >f« 

The pumice soap made by the Indexical Soap Man- 
ufacturing Co., Boston, Mass., is the best preparation I 
have ever used for removing dirt and stains from mar- 
ble. I have even extracted ink-spots with it. Wet a 
soft flannel cloth, rub on the soap, then on the stain, 
und wash the whole surface of mantel or slab with the 
same, to take off dust, grease, etc. Wash off with fair 
water, and rub dry. The polish of the marble is rather 
improved than injured by the process. The same soap 
is invaluable in a family for removing ink, fruit-stains, 
and even paint from the hands. The makers of the 
pumice soap, Robinson & Oo., are also the manufac- 
turers of the “silver soap,” for cleaning plate which 
has nearly superseded all plate-powders, whiting, etc., 
formerly used for this purpose. 


Poumprrin Four. efs 
I remind myself, comically, while jotting down these 
items of domestic practicalities, of the lucky chicken 
of the brood, who, not content with having secured her 
tit-bit of crumb, seed, or worm, noisily calls the atten- 


TIE SCRAP-BAG. 395 


tion of all her sisters to the fact. I never secure even 
a small prize in the housewifely line, but I am seized 
with the desire to spread the Beate of the same. 

About three months ago, my very courteous and in- 
telligent grocer (1 think sometimes, that nobody else 
was ever blessed with such merchants of almost every 
article needed for family use, as those with whom I 
deal) handed me, for inspection, a small box of what 
looked like yellow tooth-powder, and smelled like 
vanilla and orris-root. It was pumpkin flour, he ex- 
plained—-the genuine pumpkin, desiccated by the 
“Alden process,” and ground very fine. I took it 
home for the sake of the goodly smell, and because it 
looked “ nice.” 

The pies made from it were delicious beyond all my 
former experience in Thanksgiving desserts—a soft, 
smooth, luscious custard, procured without cost of stew- 
ing, straining, etc. And the flavor of them upon the 
tongue fully justified the promise of the odor that had 
bewitched me. It is seldom in a lifetime that one 
finds a thing which looks “nice,” smells nicer, and 
tastes nicest of all. If you, dearest and patientest 
of readers, who never quarrel with my digressions, and 
hearken indulgently to my rhodomontades, doubt now 
whether I am in very earnest, try my pumpkin flour, 
and bear witness with me to its excellence.* 


ANOTHER TREASURE. 


Those who are fond of Julienne soups, and would 
oftener please themselves and their families by making 


* Prepared at the Alden Fruit Factory, Colon, Michigan. 


396 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


or ordering them, were not the work of preparing the 
vegetables properly, tedious, and so often a failure, 
should not hesitate to purchase freely the packages of 
shred and dried vegetables now put up expressly for 
Julienne soups, and sold in nearly all first-class grocer- 
ies. They are imported from France, but are not at all 
expensive. I['ull directions for their use accompany 
them. 
Seymour Puppia. 


4 cup of molasses. 

$ cup of milk. 

4 cup of raisins, seeded, and cut in half. 
% cup of currants. 

$ cup of suet, powdered. 

4 teaspoonful of soda. 

1 egg. 

13 cups of Graham flour. 

Spice, and salt to taste. 

Boil, or steam for 24 hours. 


STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE. 


1 cup of powdered sugar. 

1 table-spoonful of butter, rubbed into the sugar. 

3 egos. 

1 cup prepared flour—a heaping cup. 

2 table-spoonfuls of cream. 

Bake in three jelly-cake tins. 

When quite cold, lay between the cakes nearly a 
quart of fresh, ripe strawberries. Sprinkle each layer 
lightly with powdered sugar, and strew the same 
thickly over the uppermost cake. Eat while fresh. 


THE SCRAP-BAG. 397 


Wewtsy RaAREBIT. 


4 pound of English cheese. 

3 eggs, well beaten. 

1 scant cup of fine bread-crumbs. 

8 table-spoonfuls of butter, melted. 

2 teaspoonfuls of made mustard. 

1 saltspoonful of salt. 

Mix all well together, and beat to a smooth paste. 
Have ready some slices of toasted bread, from which 
the crust has been pared; spread them thickly with 
the mixture, and set them upon the upper grating of 
the oven until they are slightly browned. Serve at 
once. 


PARTING WORDS. 


On ty a few, lest the patience I have already had 
occasion—and more than once—to praise, should fail at 
the last pages. And if, in my desire to be brief, IL 
seem abrupt, you will understand that it is not because 
I do not enjoy talking with, and at you. 

Be honest with me! Have you ever, in studying 
these two volumes which I have tried to make as little 
dry as the subject would admit, whispered, or thought 
something that implied a likeness between the author 
and the anonymous gentleman, in whose garden— 


** The wild brier, 
The thorn and the thistle grew higher and higher ?” 


I used to know Watts from title-page to “finis.” I 
have taken pains to forget the creaking numbers of his 
pious machinery of late years. But wasn’t the afore- 
said personage the one who “talked of eating and 
drinking?” Have you ever said, *twixt amusement 
and impatience, “ This woman thinks all women born 
to be cooks, and nothing more?” As I look at the 
matter of every-day and necessary duty—the routine 
of common life—“ common” meaning anything but vul- 
gar—there are certain things which must be learned, 
whether one have a natural bias for them or no. All 
men and women who would maintain a respectable 


PARTING WORDS. 399 


position in this enlightened land at this day, must learn 
how to read and write; must possess a fair knowledge 
of the multiplication-table, have a tolerably correct im- 
pression as to what hemisphere and zone they live in, 
whether in a kingdom or republic; must be able to 
describe the shape of the earth, and to tell who is the 
President of the United States. Next to these, in my 
opinion, stands the necessity that every woman should 
know how to use her needle deftly, and have a practi- 
cal acquaintance with the leading principles of cookery. 
The acquisition of these homely accomplishments can 
never, in any circumstances, harm her. The proba- 
bility is, that she cannot perform her part aright as 
spinster, wife, mother, or mistress without them. 

I have a lovely child waiting for me on the “thither 
shore,” whose many playful and earnest sayings are 
still quoted by us in our family talks, quite as often 
with smiles as with tears. Hers was asunny life. We 
knew that should the Father prolong her earthly exis- 
tence into womanhood, the power of making her hap- 
piness would be no longer ours. But while our chil- 
dren were children, to us belonged the precious prerog- 
ative of flooding their hearts with delight, making of 
home a haven of joy and peace they would never for- 
get, whatever the coming years might bring. Our 
darling, then, was a happy, healthy child, and symmet- 
rical in mind as body—learning readily, and usually 
with ease, the simple lessons suited to her years. Yet 
at nine years of age, she said to me one night before 
going to bed: 

“Mamma, when I remember as I lay my head on 
the pillow, every night, that I have to say the 9 col- 


400 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


umn of the multiplication-table to-morrow, I conld 
almost wish that I could die in my sleep, and the morn- 
ing never come!” 

With my heart aching in the great pity I could ill- 
express to one so young, I took her in my arms and 
told her of the need she would have, in after-life, of the 
knowledge gained so hardly ; how, setting aside the 
actual utility of the multiplication-table, she would be 
better, wiser, stronger, always for the discipline of the 
study. ee 
She lived to laugh at the recollection of the fearful 
bug-bear. Do I recall the incident with the least shade 
of remorse that I did not yield to my compassion and 
her pleading eyes, and remit, for good and all, the 
dreaded exercise? On the contrary, I am thankful the 
strength was given me to teach her how to battle and 
to conquer. And—I say it in no irreverent spirit of 
speculation—I have faith to believe that in the richer, 
deeper life beyond, she still, in some way or sense, reaps 
the good of that which she won by resolute labor, and 
by the victory over her faint-heartedness. 

I have thought of the little circumstance, a hundred 
times, when women have bemoaned themselves, in my 
hearing, over the hardship of being compelled to 
“understand something about housekeeping.” 

Since the “understanding” is a need, and patent 
even to their unwilling eyes, what say Common Sense 
and Duty? 

My dear, I would not breathe it if there were a man 
within possible hearing—-but are you not sometimes 
ashamed that women are content to know and to do so 
little in this world ? | 


PARTING WORDS. 401 


“So are manymen!” True, but that is the look-out 
of masculine philanthropists—not ours. How many 
ladies in your circle of acquaintances are willing— 
much less eager to do anything, except the positive 
and well-defined work laid upon them by custom and 
society ? How many enter into the full meaning, and 
have any just appreciation of the beauty of the duties 
especially appointed to them, of the glory and solem- 
nity of maternity, the high honor of being the custo- 
dians of others’ happiness so long as life shall last; 
Gop’s deputies upon earth in the work of training 
_ immortal souls; of forming the characters and lives 
that shall outlive the sun ? 

How many—to descend to a very plain and practical 
question—could, if bereft of fortune to-morrow or next 
week, or next year, earn a living for themselves, to say 
nothing of their children ? 

I talked out this last-named question on paper, a few 
months ago; threw arguments and conclusions into a 
form which I hoped would prove more attractive to the 
general reader, than a didactic essay. The last favor 
I shall ask of you before closing this volume, is that 
you will read my unpretending story through, and 
answer to yourself, if not to me and the public, the 
question put in the title. 


PRACTIGAL—OR UTOPIAN? 
PART I. 


“Tam going to think this matter out to a practical 
issue, if it takes me all night!” said Mrs. Hiller, posi- 
tively. ‘It may be that I am rowing against wind 
and tide, as you say, but I will hold to the oars until I 
am hopelessly swamped, or reach land! ” 

Her husband laughed. Not sneeringly ; but as good- 
natured men always do laugh when women talk of 
finding their way out of a labyrinth by means of the 
clue of argument. 

“You val nae no more than your conven- 
tions and: women’s rights books ” 

“ Don’t call them mzne/” pr seed the wife. - 

“T speak of the sex at large, my love. No more, 
then, than women’s rights books and conventions have 
achieved. All their battle for the equality of the 
sexes; the liberation of women from the necessity of 
marriage as a means of livelihood; for more avenues 
of remunerative labor, and the acknowledgment of the 
dignity of the same—now that the smoke has cleared 
away, and combatants and spectators can look about 
them—is seen to have resulted in nothing, or next to 
nothing. You have encouraged a few more women to 
paint poor pictures, and spoil blocks and plates in at- 
tempts to practise engraving ; put some at bookkeep- 

rs’ desks where they are half paid; crowded the 


Sarg 
ne 


3 ;  Weetees 
Ws ahr) 
i [ak 
\* Br. 





PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 2 403 


board-rooms of our public schools with applicants at 
the rate of a hundred for each vacancy; induced a 
similar rush upon telegraph offices, and every other 
place where ‘ light, lady-like labor’ can be procured ; 
brought down, rather than raised the salaries in each 
of these departments of industry—and made marriage 
more than ever the swmmuwm bonum of every thinking 
workwoman—the shining gate that is to give her lib- 
eration from ill-requited toil.” 

“ Philip! how you exaggerate !” 

“Not in the least, my dear, sanguine wife! Who 
puts on her rose-colored spectacles whenever the sub- 
ject of ‘woman’s emancipation’ is brought forward. I 
have studied this matter as closely as you have; hope- 
fully, for a while, but, of late, with the fast-growing 
conviction that Nature and Society yoked are too 
strong a team for you to pull against. Coimbat the as- 
sertion as you will,—it is natural for a woman to look 
forward to matrimony as her happiest destiny ; to de- 
sire, and to bring it about by every means which seems 
to her consistent with modesty and self-respect. And 
to this conclusion Society holds her by the refusal to 
receive into the ‘ best circles’ her who earns her living 
by her own labor. Mrs. Million treads the charmed 
arena by virtue of her husband’s wealth. But, when 
Mrs. Sangpur is envious of her dear friend’s latest 
turn-out in equipage, dress, or furniture, she recurs, 
tauntingly, to the time when Mrs. Million was a work- 
girl in Miss Fitwell’s establishment, and shrugs her 
patrician shoulders over ‘new people.” As Miss Fit- 
well’s assistant, forewoman, and successor, Miss Bias— 
now Mrs. Million—were she rich, refined, beautiful, 


AOL BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


could yet never hope for a card even to one of Mrs. 
Sangpur’s mass parties.” 

“ But there are distinctions of social degree, Philip, 
which must be maintained. You don’t bring your 
bootmaker home to dine with Judge Wright, or Honor- 
able Senator Rider.” 

“Tam not a reformer, my love. When my boot- 
maker fits himself for the society of those you name, 
he will be welcomed by them, and his early history 
referred to as an honor, not disgrace. The annals of 
Court and Congress will tell you this. To return to 
the original question; I insist there is a want of prac- 
ticalness—I won’t say of common sense—in your re- 
form, as heretofore conducted ; that no one woman in 
five thousand, especially in what are called the higher 
walks of life, is able to support herself, or would be 
allowed by popular sentiment to do so, were she able. 
There is a screw loose somewhere, and very loose at 
that. I, for one, am never rid of the rattle. Maybe, 
because I am the father of three daughters. If I had 
sons, I should be condemned by the entire community ; 
stand convicted at the bar of my own conscience, if I 
had not trained each of them to some trade or profes- 
sion. As it is, the case stands thus: I may live long 
enough to accumulate a fair competency for each of 
my girls, a sum, the interest of which will support her 
»omfortably ; for she, being a woman, will never in- 
crease the bulk of the principal. My more reasonable 
hope is to see her married t» an energetic business man, 
or one who has inherited a fortune and knows how to 
take care of it. This accomplished, parental responsi- 
bility is supposed to end, so far as provision for the life 


PRACTICAL——OR UTOPIAN ? 405 


that now is, goes. Ifher husband should fail, or die a 
poor man—the Lord help her and her children—if [ 
cannot !” 

tle was not talking flippantly now. As he knocked 
the ashes from the tip of his cigar into the grate, his 
face was grave to sorrowfulness. 

“Our girls have been carefully educated,” said Mrs. 
Hiller, a little hurt at the turn the dialogue had taken. 
“In this country a thorough education is a fortune. 
They could set up a school.” 

“To compete with a thousand others conducted by 
those who have been trained expressly for this profes- 
sion; whom constant practice has made au fart to the 
ever-changing modes of instruction and fashionable 
text-books. Why, I, whose Latin salutatory was praised 
as a inodel of classic composition, and who read Llorace, 
Sallust, and Livy in the original almost every day, 
cannot understand more than half the quotations spout- 
ed in the court-house and at lawyers’ dinners, by 
youngsters who have learned the ‘ continental method’ 
of pronunciation. I cannot even parse English, for the 
very parts of speech are disguised under new names. 
‘A noun-substantive is something else, an article is a 
pronoun, and, what with adjuncts, subjects, and imodi- 
fiers, I stand abashed in the presence of a ten-year-old 
in the primary department of a public school. Our 
girls might go out as daily governesses at a dollar a 
day, or run their chances of getting music scholars 
away from professionals by offering lessons at half 
price. They are good, intelligent, and industrious. I 
don’t deny their ability to make a bare living, if forced 
to do it. I don’t believe they could do more. When 


406 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


the rainy day comes, He who tempers the wind to the 
shorn lamb, must be their helper. Let us hope that 
day will never dawn. And by way of additional pro- 
vision against it, I must leave you for an hour or two, 
to keep an engagement witha client. Don’t let the 
memory of our talk depress you. We won’t cross the 
bridge before we come to it. Here is ‘ Old Kensing- 
ton’ to amuse you. You know, darling, that I would 
work brains and fingers to nothing rather than haye 
you and the lassies want for so much as the ‘ latest 
thing’ in neck ribbons. And so would any man who 
is worthy of the name.” 

“T know you would.” | 

The elderly love-couple gazed into each other’s 
eyes, exchanged a good-bye kiss as fondly as at their 
partings twenty-three years before. 

“T could ask no fairer destiny for my daughters 
than has been mine,’ murmured the mother, resettling 
herself in her luxurious chair before the sea-coal fire, 
and putting out her hand for the book the thoughtful 
kindness of her husband had provided for her evening’s 
entertainment. “ But to every prize, there are so 
many blanks! It is worse for a woman to sell herself 
for a home and a livelihood than for her to fight, hand- 
to-hand with poverty, all her life. If girls would only 
believe this. I mean that mine shall /” 

She did not open the book yet. Unrest and dissat- 
isfaction were in the face that studied the seething, 
elowing pile in the grate. 

“There are the Payne girls, for instance!” she said, 
presently, with increasing discomfort. 


The book lay, still shut, in her lap. She folded her 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN ¢ 407 


hands upon it; lay back in the chair, and did not move 
again in an hour. She was “ thinking it out; ” pull- 
ing hard on the oar in the teeth of head-wind and fog. 

She was haunted by the Payne girls. Their father, 
a popular physician, had lived handsomely ; worked 
hard; been exemplary in his home, his profession, 
in Church, and in city. He sent his five daughters 
to the best schools, and fitted them by culture and 
dress to make a creditable appearance in the world— 
the only world they cared for—a round of visits, par- 
ties and show-places for marriageable young people of 
both sexes. They were nice girls, said complaisant 
Everybody. Not beautiful, or gifted, but sprightly, 
well-bred and amiable—the very material out of which 
to make good wives and mothers. Two did marry be- 
fore the sad day on which their father was brought 
home in an apoplectic fit, from which he never rallied. 
They married for love, but not imprudently. Their 
husbands were merchants with fair prospects, steady, 
enterprising, moral young men, who were yet not quite 
disposed to be burdened with the care of a maiden 
sister-in-law-and-a-half apiece in addition to the sup- 
port of their families proper. That somebody would 
have to “look after the unmarried daughters” was 
soon bruited about. There were two boys—five and 
ten years old—to be educated ; the widow to be pro- 
vided for, and, when the estate was settled up, nothing 
except a life-insurance of eighteen thousand dollars 
was left with which to compass all this. Tender- 
hearted Everybody was sorry for the fatherless boys 5 
sorrier for the widow, who had loved her husband very 
truly ; sorriest for “the Payne girls.” Before their 





408 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND THA. 


mourning was rusty, appreciative Everybody began ta 
nudge Everybody Else slyly, when in company with 
the Payne girls, to call attention to the fact, daily more 
and more palpable, that the sisters three were anxious 
to get married. Not more anxious, if the secrets of 
feminine hearts had been revealed, than were dozens of 
others in their set, but they had not the art to dissemble 
their eagerness. Nobody stayed his, or her laugh at 
them by considering that, since they had deliberately, 
conscientiously, and humanely determined to relieve 
their mother from the crushing weight of their depend- 
ence, and saw no other way of doing this than by sell- 
ing themselves in the licensed and respectable shambles 
of matrimony, they should have been commended for 
doing with all their might whatsoever their hands found 
to do. They angled earnestly, but with a zeal so little 
according to knowledge that the most bull-headed gud- 
geon in the preserved waters of bachelor and widower- | 
dom scorned to be imposed upon by the bait. They 
borrowed the finery of their better-off sisters; made 
their own and their mother’s over and over again ; went 
everywhere and tried every phase of fascination, ‘‘ from 
grave to gay, from lively to severe,” until their eager, 
ceaseless smiles wore wrinkles about lips and eyes that 
ill-natured Everybody called crows-feet, and the tales of 
their fawnings, toadyisms, and manceuvres were stale in 
the ears of greedy Everybody—yet were still, at thirty- 
six, thirty-eight, and forty years of age, the Payne girls, 
“whose brothers were now able to do something for 
them.” What more suitable than that these fine young 
fellows—one of whom had chosen his father’s profes- 
sion, while the other had gone into partnership with his 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 2 409 


brother-in-law, should bind pillions upon their backs 
whereon their sisters could ride in reputable indolence, 
behind the wives they had wedded and had a right to 
cherish ? 

“It was a pity,’ considerate Everybody now began 
to whisper, “that they should be thus hampered ; bat 
what else could be done ?” 

Mrs. Hiller’s fresh-colored, matronly face might well 
be grave, as she recounted these things to herself, 
had the history of the Payne girls been an isolated 
case. 

“But they are a type of so many!” she said, sadly. 
“Society is encrusted with such, like barnacles sticking 
toaship. There is Lewis Carter, one of the ablest 
young lawyers at the bar, Philip says. He aud Annie 
Morton have been in love with one another ever since 
he was twenty-one, and she nineteen, ten years ago, 
It is eight since his father died, and left him in charge 
of his mother and three sisters, only one of whom is 
younger than himself. They have not married, and, 
until they do, he cannot. Annie may wait for him 
until they are both fifty years old and upward—maybe 
all their lives—for the older the sisters grow, the more 
dependent they will become. They make a pleasant 
home for him, people say; manage his money judi- 
ciously, and fairly worship their benefactor. Yet he 
must compare them, mentally, to leeches, when he 
reflects how youth and hope are ebbing out of his 
heart and Annie’s. No doubt leeches are sincerely 
attached to what they feed upon. What right have 
they to expect a support from him, more than he from 


them? They are strong and well, and as much money 
18 


3 


410 BREAKFAST, LUNOHEON AND TEA. 


was spent upon their education as upon his. House- 
keepers, forsooth! Does it take four women to keep 
one man’s house ?” 

She was rowing very hard now, and the fog was 
denser than ever. 

“There is Mr. Sibthorpe, with his four girls and 
three boys, and a salary, as bank-teller, of two thousand 
dollars a year. The daughters all ‘took’ French and 
music lessons at school. One of them is ‘ passionately 
fond’ of worsted work; another does decaleomanie 
flower-pots and box-covers for fairs, and all crochet in 
various stitches, and one is great upon tatting. They 
‘help about house, as our grandmothers used to say, 
all four of them; do contrive, with the aid of their 
mother and a strapping Irish girl, to keep the house- 
work tolerably in hand, and ‘have in’ a dressmaker 
and seamstress, spring and fall, to give them a fresh 
start. They don’t read a book through once a year ; 
they have no connected plans about anything, except 
to appear as well as girls whose fathers are worth ten 
times as much as is theirs—and to get married! They 
murder time by inches while waiting for the four 
coming men; ménce it into worthlessness with their 
pitiful fal-lals of fancy work and the fine arts (save 
the mark!). Evelyn told me, the other day, that the 
sprig of wax hyacinths she showed me—a stiff, tasteless 
spike that smelled of oil and turpentine— occupied ” 
her for ten hours! What will become of them when 
their pale, overworked father dies? It is frightful to 
think of a vessel thus freighted and cumbered being 
tied to safety by such a worn, frayed cord as that. one 
man’s life.” 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN ? Ail 


A dash of sleety rain against the window interrupted 
her. 

“Philip said there would be a storm before morn- 
ing. I wonder if he took his umbrella? He never 
thinks of himself. I am sorry he had to go out at all 
with such a cold.” 

“One man’s life!” What flung the words back at 
her? What had she and her petted daughters between 
them and comparative — maybe absolute — poverty, 
save the life of this man, who, with a heavy cold on 
his lungs, had gone out into the fierce March night? 
Who would dare prophesy that his dream of amassing 
a competency for his children would be fulfilled? 
Why should she be vexing her soul with speculations 
about the Payne, and the Carter, and the Sibthorpe 
girls, when other women, as wise and far-sighted as 
she, were perhaps asking aloud, in friendly or imperti- 
nent gossip over their respective firesides, what would 
become of the “poor Hillers,” in the event of their 
father’s death. 

She felt very much as if her barque had, like Robin- 
son Crusoe’s ship, 

** with a shock, 
Struck plump on a rock!” 
What were Aer daughters good for, if the question 
should arise how to keep the wolf from their own door ? 
There was Philip’s life-insurance (everybody insured his 
life nowadays) of fifteen thousand dollars, secured to 
herself ; and this house in which they lived, the lowest 
valuation of which was twenty thousand—and some- 
thing—she wasn’t sure how much besides. That is, 
she supposed something would be left when all out- 


AL? BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


standing accounts were paid. Say, however, that they 
would have thirty-five thousand clear. At six per cent. 
interest, this would bring, she estimated, after a pause, 
an income of twenty-one hundred dollars per annum. 
Provided she sold the house! That was a pang, even 
in imagination. Out of this sum must come rent, fuel, 
clothes, and a thousand etceteras for a family of four 
grown people, whose present income was, at the least, 
ten thousand a year. 

“Good Heavens!” The rosy face blanched even 
under the ruddy rays of the sea-coal fire. “Say, then, 
that we were worth fifty thousand dollars, free of in- 
cumbrance. That would be only three thousand a 
year; and, as Philip says, we could do nothing to in- 
crease the principal. Why we would have to be eco- 
nomical, if we had double that sum. And few men’s 
estates yield more. How do widows and orphans who 
have been reared in luxury, live, when the strong staff 
is broken? I seem never to have understood until this 
instant what helpless wretches women are; how most 
helpless of all classes are those who know themselves, 
and who have always been known as ladies, born and 
bred. Is there a remedy, a preventive for this? Is it im- 
practicable to throw out an anchor to windward? What 
was the origin of this insane, wicked, cruel prejudice 
against independent thought and vigorous work on the 
part of women, that fills every rank of life with miser- 
able wives, and mothers who ought never to be entrusted 
with the care of children? Does He, who can make 
even wickedness the instrument of His purposes, permit 
this to flourish rank in Christian lands, that the world 
may be lawfully populated ?” 


PRACTICAL—-OR UTOPIAN ? 413 


In the boat again, and in very deep, murky waters, 
but tugging at the oar with all the energy of her prac- 
tical, common-sensible character. 

“Philip says teaching does not pay any longer; nor 
painting, nor music, nor fine sewing. What does?” 

Through the smooth, oily heart of the big lump of 
coal on the top of the mass in the grate, placed there 
carefully by Mr. Hiller’s tongs before he went out, ran 
a concealed layer of slate, not wider than a man’s finger, 
nor thicker than a plate of mica. But when the fire 
touched it, it cracked, and the big, justly-balanced lump 
exploded with force that sent the fragments helter- 
skelter in every direction. 

Mrs. Hiller jumped up with a little scream, and shook 
her dress violently, inspected every flounce, lest the 
flutings might harbor a live coal or spark. 

“All safe, fortunately,’ she congratulated herself, 
after brushing off rug and fender, and pushing her 
chair a few paces further from the hearth. “It is a 
real calamity to scorch a dress in this day, when one 
pays so much for having it made. Our bills are abso- 
lutely shameful. Whoever loses money, or fails to 
make it, the milliners and dressmakers ought to be fat 
and flourishing. Their profits must be enormous, yet 
all of them—the competent and obliging ones—are 
overrun with work. Madame Champe, for example, 
gives herself the airs of a queen dispensing favors, 
when she consents to undertake a dress for me.” 

At that instant, with. that tart speech, Mrs. Hiller 
reached land and beached her boat. 

The three girls did not return home from the party 
to which they had gone until twelve o'clock. The rain 


414 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


had not touched them in the close coach their father 
always hired for them on such occasions. Tossing off 
their wrappings as they ran, they trooped into their 
mother’s sitting-room, adjoining her chamber, where 
she awaited them. 

“With such a super/wgious home-sy fire! bright and 
warm as her own heart,” chattered Blanche, the young- 
est, rushing forward to throw herself on the rug at her 
mother’s knee. “ And a heavenly cup of tea! I enter 
now into the full comprehension of the reason why it 
is called the celestial herb,” sniffing the air. “There 
never was, there never will be, there never cowld be, 
such another mamma.” 

“You are right there!” cried the others, kissing her 
less noisily, but as fondly, as did the madcap of the 
flock. 

Any mother might be proud of the trio, clustered 
about her, sipping the tea they declared to be more 
delicious than all the delicacies of the supper table; 
talking as fast as their nimble tongues could move of 
what they had done, and seen, and heard, since she 
had superintended their toilets, four hours before. 
That the understanding between her and them was per- 
fect, hearty, and joyous, was plain. 

imma, the eldest, was twenty-one, tall, shapely, with 
a complexion and gait that bespoke healthy nervous 
organization, a sound mind and judgment. Her excel- 
lent sense and happy temper made her a safe coun- 
sellor, as well as agreeable companion, for her more 
volatile sisters. She dressed tastefully, as did they 
all; moved with composed grace through a systematic 
round of daily duties; was her father’s pride, the 


PRACTICAL——OR UTOPIAN 2 415 


mother’s helper, and not a whit less popular in her 
circle than if she had been both wit and beauty, where- 
as she was neither. 

Imogen was far handsomer, a decided blonde, while 
Imma had gray eyes and dark hair. The second 
daughter liked to set off her fairness by all justifiable 
and lady-like appliances of art and fashion, and knew 
how to do it. She was never florid or conspicuous in 
appearance, yet never en déshabille in the simplest 
attire. Her clothes became a part of her so soon as 
she put them on. A few touches of her deft fingers 
brought fitness out of disorder; added the nameless, 
inestimable air we term “style,” for the want of a 
fitter word, to whatever she touched or wore. A very 
busy bee she was in her way, with a mania for reno- 
vating her own paraphernalia and that of everybody 
else who would allow her the privilege; giving to the 
parlors, which were her especial charge, a new aspect 
every day by the variety of her elegant devices. 

Blanche—eighteen and just “ont,” was petite in 
figure, with light, fluffy hair, dancing blue eyes and 
small white teeth that somehow made more arch her 
merry smile. She was the pet and the mischief-maker 
of the household, affectionate and frolicsome, with in- 
numerable tricksy, yet dainty ways that belonged only 
to herself; quick of wit and fearless of tongue, and 
facile in hand as Imogen, her room-mate and con- 
federate in all her schemes of pleasure or work. 

“imma lays the foundation; Imogen builds there- 
upon. Mine is the ornamental department—the gloss- 
ing over and decking, after the scaffold is down,” she 
had once said. 


416 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


The mother recalled it, now, watching them as with 
unsealed eyes, and was confirmed in the resolutions 
which were the fruit of her evening’s musings. 

“ Away to bed, magpies!” she said, at length, “I 
won't hear a word more! You are warmed and re- 
freshed now. And unless you go soon, you will not 
be down in season to recount your adventures and con- 
quests to papa at breakfast. He considers himself an 
ill-used person when he has to go off without getting 
the evening’s report. Moreover, I want you to have 
your brains steady and clear, for I must have a long 
business talk with you to-morrow forenoon.” 

“Business! that sounds portentous,” said Imogen, in 
affected consternation. 

“Jt sounds entrancing!” commented Blanche. It 
savoreth of new dresses, and, perchance, jewelry—per- 
adventure, though that is a bold flight of fancy, of a 
trip across the sea next summer.” 

“Nothing has gone wrong, I hope, mother?” queried 
Emma. 

“Nothing at all, my dear Lady Thoughtful,” was the 
smiling reply. 

“ Dear Lady Owl, you mean!” cried saucy Blanche, 
and she went off singing :— 


‘¢ And what says the old gray owl ? 
To who? To who?” 


“Happy children!” Mrs. Hiller heaved a confiden- 
tial sigh to the fire that had shone on the young faces a 
moment ago. “ Will what I have to tell them make 
them less happy or gay? Is mine, after all, the needless 
croak of the owl instead of a wise warning?” 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 2 417 


The thought pierced her again, next day, when they 
met in her boudoir, eager and curious, their eyes and 
cheeks unmarred by the moderate dissipation of the 
preceding night. But she stood fast to her purpose ; 
unfolded her scheme in bulk and detail, with the assured 
tone of one who had considered the cost to the last 
farthing. She was not accounted an eccentric woman 
by her acquaintances, but her proposal was novel, and, 
to her listeners, startling. Their days of school-study 
were over, she reminded them. It was time that upon 
the foundation of general information thus laid should 
be erected the superstructure of a profession. 

“ A specialty, if you prefer the word,” she said; 
“since I earnestly hope you will not be called upon to 
practice it fora livelihood. While papa’s strength and 
health last, he finds no more delightful use for his 
earnings than to purchase comfort and luxury for us. 
Were he to die, or to be unfortunate in business, or 
become incurably diseased—and such things are of 
almost daily occurrence—our style of living would be 
at once and entirely altered. You would be driven to 
the study of small, minute economies and false appear- 
ances, such as must rasp and narrow the souls of those 
who resort to them ; to escape these by a marriage of 
convenience, or the lucky accident of a love-match, or 
to engage, in earnest, in some business that would, 
thanks to your previous training, continue to you the 
elegancies, with the decencies of life.” 

This was the preamble to an abstract of the conver- 
sation with her husband, the troubled reverie and eal- 
culations that succeeded it. 


“Of artists in music and painting, there are, perhaps, 
dls 


418 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


twenty in this city,” she observed. “Of pretenders and 
drudges in these arts, there are more than a thousand. 
Since not one of you has developed any decided talent 
for such pursuits, or for hterature, and, since teaching 
for a living has become but another name for bondage 
and starvation, my plan is this: You, Emma, shall 
learn bookkeeping; Imogen, dressmaking ; Blanche, 
millinery. Don’t look horrified! I shall not expose 
you to the uncongenial associations or unwholesome 
atmosphere of the crowded shop or work-room. All 
that affection and money can do to make the term of 
your novitiate pleasant shall be done. You shall fit up 
the old nursery as your academy of the useful arts, if 
you choose to call it by so dignified a name. I shall 
engage competent instructors for you and pay well for 
the lessons. But there must be no play-work, no su- 
perficial, amateur performance on either side. When 
your trades are learned, I shall expect you to keep 
yourselves in practice, and up with the latest improve- 
ments and fashions by practice in domestic manufac- 
tures. Milliners’ and dressmakers’ bills shall be among 
the things that were. Emma shall have charge of the 
housekeeping accounts and papa’s books. He will pay 
her as he would any other skilful accountant, and what — 
you, Imogen and Blanche, shall adjudge to be a reas- 
onable price for every dress and bonnet made for your- 
selves, your sister, or for me.” 

The, for once, dumb trio found simultaneous voice 
at this. 

“Mamma! would that be right? Would it not be 
an imposition ?” 

“Tt is his own proposal. We talked it all over last 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 2? 419 


night after he came home, and again this morning. I 
need not tell you that he is the best, most indulgent 
father that ever loved and spoiled three loving daugh- 
ters. I had some difficulty in persuading him to let 
me try the experiment. The tears stood in his dear 
eyes, while he debated the pros and cons of the case. 

“¢ My bonnie bairns!’ he said. ‘If I could, I would 
be their shield always. They should never dream of 
privation ; never ink or prick their pretty fingers except 
for amusement, if I were sure of ten years more of life 
and prosperity.’” 

She stopped to steady her voice. 

Imogen was crying outright ; Emma’s oray eyes were 
cloudy. Blanche broke forth, half-laughing, half-sob- 
bing :— | 

“The angelic old papa! isn’t he a born seraph? ~ I 
would peddle rags with a lean mule, and a string of 
bells across the cart, to save him an hour’s anxiety. I 
wish Ae would wear French hats—all flowers and moon- 
shine! And have four every season. Would not I 
furnish them for nothing, kisses thrown into the bar- 
gain ?” . 

The others had to laugh at the vision of papa’s six 
feet of stature, broad shoulders, strong features, and 
iron-gray hair crowned with a fancy hat of the prevail- 
ing mode, Mrs. Hiller went on :— 

“<But, he added, ‘ I will not, while I can take care of 
them, derive one cent’s profit from their work. There 
is no surer way of learning how to take care of money 
than having money to manage. I will furnish each of 
the pusses with a bank-book. She shall make out 
quarterly bills against you, or me; deposit her gains in 


420 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TRA. 


her own name, and invest as she will. Iler earnings 
may thus be the nest-egg of a neat little fortune. I 
can’t imagine—I won’t believe that they will ever be- 
come mercenary. But I am sick of the limpness and 
insipidity and general know-nothingness of the women 
with whom I have business dealings. ‘ My dear husband 
never suffered me to be annoyed by these matters,’ 
says the widow, her handkerchief to her eyes. And— 
‘If my poor papa had foreseen this day, it would have 
embittered his life!’ sobs the interesting spinster of 
forty-seven, who ‘hasn’t an idea how to make out a 
checque,’ and really doesn’t know the difference between — 
real and personal estate!” 

“The Payne girls!” uttered Imogen and Blanche, in 
wicked glee. “ Mamma, you ‘did’ Arethusa to the life.” 

She resumed more seriously. “Something papa 
heard last night caused us to lay this subject especially 
to heart. Doctor Jaynes says there is no doubt that 
Mr. Sibthorpe is threatened with softening of the 
brain. He has been doing extra work this winter— 
bookkeeping and copying in the evenings, at home, as 
he could pick up such jobs, to eke out his salary, and 
it has been too much for him. Nothing but absolute 
rest and freedom from care can save him. Doctor 
Jaynes told him so plainly, and he answered, with 
tears, that it was out of the question—he must die in 
harness. It was natural that the news should interest 
and sadden us.” 

“He has a very helpless family,” remarked Emma, 
compassionatety. 

‘“ Because s0 many of them—all who are grown up 
—are girls!” cried Blanche, impetuously. “ That tells 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN ? 4921 


the whole story. And such a pitiful, disgraceful, hu- 
miliating one it is! I could be ashamed of being a 
woman. Mrs. Sibthorpe—indeed a majority of Ameri- 
can mothers of the genteeler sort, ought to turn pagans, 
and drown their baby-girls as soon as they are born. 
That would be better than turning them logse—great, 
overgrown babies, forever whining, with their fingers 
in their mouths, over their feebleness, and timidity, 
and sentimental ignorance—upon a grinning, or groan- 
ing public!” 

“But how strange that we have never taken this 
subject into serious consideration before,” said sensible 
Emma. “That other people do not, is certain. Mother, 
you won’t mind if I ask you a question or two?” 

“ My precious child! as many as you like. I wish 
you to state every objection frankly. You are of age, 
you know. I could not compel you to adopt my sug- 
gestion, if I were disposed to do so. Nor will I coerce 
the judgment of one of you three. We must go into 
this enterprise heartily and all together, or not at all.” 

* Will not our action excite much talk when it is 
known, give rise to unpleasant surmises, and subject 
us to many impertinent inquiries ?” 

“Undoubtedly it will. We may as well prepare 
ourselves for this. And the same kind guardians of 
their neighbors’ behavior and general interests would 
buzz and sting yet more industriously were one of us 
to sicken with small-pox, or the house to burn down 
to-morrow. Or, if papa were to go off in a rapid 
consumption, they would bewail the number of girls 
in our family as loudly and as delightedly as they will 
soon be gossiping about poor, distraught Mr. Sibthorpe, 


422 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


and his quartette of what Blanche calls overgrown 
babies; would dole out to us such charity of word and 
deed as falls to the share of the Payne girls. My 
darlings, if I could tell you how I long to see you in- 
dependent of such changes in fortune and fair-weather 
friends! each of you armed in herself to meet reverses 
and to defy them, with Gop’s help and blessing upon 
those who are trying to help themselves ! ” 

Whatever error the tender mother may have made 
in her calculations of what was to be risked, gained, 
and lost by the bold step she purposed, she had not 
overrated the amount and quality of gossip caused by 
the practical operation of her scheme. Stories, having 
“Mrs. Hiller’s queer whim” for a starting-point, in- 
creased and multiplied, and flew over the town like 
thistle-down in a windy September day. The mother 
was a tyrant ; the daughters were peculiar and strong- 
minded. The parents refused to maintain their off- 
spring because they were not sons, and had informed 
them of their intention to bequeath every dollar of 
their property to a Boys’ Orphan Asylum. The off- 
spring disdained to be fed and clothed by the hated 
parents. Mr. Hiller was insolvent; Mrs. Hiller was 
insane; both were misers. The sisters were engaged 
to be married to missionaries, and were bent upon en- 
grafting the multifarious iniquities of the modern and 
Christian woman’s garb upon the scantily-clothed 
trunk of Ashantee, or Papuyan, or Root-digger fashions. 

At first our heroines were. annoyed, then diverted. 
In less than three months they ceased to think of the 
babble at all, in their growing interest in their active, 
varied home-life. 


PRACTICAL —-OR UTOPIAN ? 493 


Just a year from the March night on which Mrs. 
- Hiller had used so many nautical figures in her speech 
and reverie, two cards were brought up to the “ acade- 
my of useful arts,” as the fair students therein per- 
sisted in calling a large room at the back of the house. 
It was airy and sunny, and, to-day, was full of life and 
enjoyment, for mother and danghters were gathered 
there, and the chirping was like that of a happily- 
crowded robin’s nest. 

“The ladies say, do let ’em run right up, without 
ceremony,’ reported the servant. 

“<Arethusa Payne,’ and ‘ Marietta Sibthorpe,’ ” read 
Blanche from the cards. ‘“‘ Ask them to walk up to the 
work-room, Jane. Mind that you say ‘ the work-room.’ ” 
As the amused girl left the chamber, the young lady 
continued: “An Inspection Committee! Let them 
come! Won’t I make them open their eyes, though ? ” 

“T had no idea you were engaged with a dressmaker. 
I am afraid we intrude,” simpered Miss Payne, tip- 
toeing, like a cautious hen, between Blanche’s work- 
stand, piled with bonnet frames and linings, and 
Imogen’s, down which flowed a river of silken flounces, 
half gathered at the top; noting likewise, by turning 
her sharp face to the right, then the left, as she stepped 
(still like an inquisitive Partlet), that Emma’s tall 
desk, with a ledger open upon it, was in a corner. 

Mrs. Hiller was ripping up a black silk dress ; 
Emma was pulling a velvet hat to pieces. 

“Only practising our trades a little in furbishing up 
things; giving a spring-ish look to hats and gowns,” 
rejoined Blanche, with saucy politeness. “ One gets so 
sick of winter clothes!” 


44 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


“Dear me, how convenient! What a source of 
amusement it must be to have that sort of knack!” 
said Miss Sibthorpe, self-compassionately. “It is a 
genuine talent, isn’t it now? downright genius! And 
can you actually make ahat, Blanche! 1 couldu’t put 
a bit of ribbon on mine to save my life!” 

“ But we are professionals,’ put in Imogen. “You 
have no idea how we have worked to acquire the artistic 
touch. We had Miss Tiptop’s forewoman with us at 
the country cottage we rented last summer, all the — 
“dull season,’ on purpose to teach me dressmaking, 
besides the lessons I had had in town. Blanche ran 
down to the city every week for an all-day lesson.” 

“ But how very odd!” ejaculated Arethusa. 

“That people should pay such exorbitant milliners’ 
bills all their lives, when they could learn the business 
with one-fourth the labor and in one-tenth of the time 
music requires?” Blanche said, in wilful misunder- 
standing, setting her head on one side, and holding her 
unfinished hat off at arm’s length to examine the effect.. 
“Tt is queer, as yousay. Ill be generous, girls. Tl 
give you instructions, if you wish—take you as my ap- 
prentices. I should enjoy it hugely.” 

Both laughed shrilly and affectedly, to disguise the 
offence her proposal gave them. 

“T haven’t the least taste for such employment,” said 
Arethusa. 

~“ You are very kind, but my social engagements are 
so numerous!” pleaded Marietta. “ Honestly, what 
do you doit for?” You can’t really like it! Itseems 
so—so—yvery peculiar! such a queer whim, you know!” 

“That is just what everybody says—such a queer 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN ¢ 4°5 


whim! You get so much talked about, you know,” 
subjoined Arethusa. “And it is so excessively disagree- 
able to be talked about! I couldn’t stand it.” 

“But you do not understand,’ pursued Blanche, 
solemnly, “that you might make a living by it. Why, 
we three expect to be a rich firmin the course of time ; 
to buy up bank stock and railway shares, and speculate 
in real estate, and all that. Emma is a capital book- 
keeper. Papa says she could command a salary of a 
thousand dollars a year already. Then, think of the 
luxury of having a new dress, or, what is the same 
thing, one that is made over to look like new, at every 
party ; and as many hats a season as you want, for 
what it would cost to buy one at Madame Lavigne’s. 
And finally, you see, one respects herself so thoroughly 
and deliciously for being able to fill up a real place—a 
worker’s place—in the world. Most women remind me 
of marbles that have rolled somehow into holes. Some- 
times it is a fit. But as often as not the marble is 
round, and the hole is square! ” 


pee Gad eg Mts 


« Att aboard! ” 

As the cars glided out of the lighted depot into the 
darker streets, leading to the utter gloom of the open 
country, two gentlemen settled themselves into their 
seats with audible sighs of satisfaction. 

“ Homeward bound!” said the elder, a man of fifty, 


426 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


hale in figure and face, although his hair was alinost 
white. 

“ For which let us be thankful!” responded his com- 
panion, heartily. ‘This has been a long week to me, 
although a busy one—longer than a fortnight would. 
have been at home.” 

“You may blame the twin babies for that,” said the 
other, smiling indulgently at his impatience. 

“ Bless them for it, you mean—the boys and their 
mother. A man may well be impatient to get back to 
such treasures as are mine.” 

He was a fine-looking fellow, manly in every gesture 
and tone, six-and-twenty years old, the son-in-law of 
the gentleman beside him, and had been for a year his 
law-partner. 

“You are right. Emma is a good girl—a noble 
woman ; her mother’s own daughter for sense, discre- 
tion, and warmth of heart. There is nothing frivolous 
or shallow about her. Let me see—the boys are almost 
three months old, are they not?” 

“ Just three months to-morrow. It is marvellous 
what strength the thought of them puts into my heart 
and arm. ‘The cunning little rascals! Emma writes 
that they grow every day. She is sure-they will recog- 
nize me on my return. I suppose you experienced 
papas, who have outlived the novelty of this sort of 
thing, amuse yourselves vastly at our expense; but it 
pleases me to believe what she says. They are very 
bright, healthy in mind and body, as the children of 
such a mother should be. They and L are blest beyond 
comparison in having her for the angel in our house. 
Should it please Gop to spare our lives ”— 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 2 497 


The sentence rested on the shocked air, incomplete, 
never to be finished. One terrific jar !—a crashing, 
and splintering, and reeling, an awful sense of falling 
down, down, through utter darkness, over and over, 
then a blow that ended everything—surprise, consterna- 
tion, fearful questioning—in blank, black silence. 

When the débris of the telescoped cars was cleared 
away, the two men were found lying, as they had sat, side 
by side. The younger was dead. The elder moved and 
groaned as he was lifted from the wreck. Papers upon 
their persons established their identity beyond a doubt. 

Early next morning a telegram was brought into 
a pretty dressing-room, where the sunshine, peer- 
ing through the vine-leaves about the window, 
made dancing shadows on the floor, laughed, and 
leaped, and flashed in reflection from the water in a 
China bath, set in the middle of the chamber. In this 
splashed and -crowed two baby-boys, one held by the 
mother, the other by the grandmother, and between 
these knelt two younger women—all four in delighted 
worship of the tiny cherubs. There was a breathless 
hush as the youngest of the party sprang up to seize 
the envelope, and tore it open. : 

“Collision!” said the missive. “ Hrederick Cor- 
win killed instantly. Philip Hiller badly injured. 
Both will be sent on in next train.” 

In this ghastly shape came disaster to the long-ex- 
empt household. Life and the world had dealt so be- 
nignly and bountifully with them heretofore, that they 
had insensibly learned to look upon their possession of 
health, love, and happiness as assured for years and years 
tocome. Emma’s marriage had removed her from them 


428 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA, 


but a couple of blocks, and all concurred in the opinion 
that this was acharming variety upon their former estate. 

“Tlow did we ever get along without Fred’s and 
Emma’s house to run into? It is as good as haying 
two homes,” the girls often said among themselves. 

When the twins came—bouncing, healthy boys— 
the excitement and-joy in one house equalled that in 
the other. It seemed now, indeed, that they could ask 
nothing more of Heaven; that the brimming eup of 
bliss was mantled all over with rose-leaves. And when 
“Papa and Fred” were obliged to be absent from 
their homes for a week, in attendance upon the doings 
of a court a hundred miles away, Emma and her babes 
were transferred with much ceremony and rejoicing to - 
her mother’s care; given up to the petting and admira- 
tion of the doating aunties without reservation, beyond 
Fred’s earnest entreaty that they would not kiss the 
boys away to skeletons before he returned, and a threat 
to have them protected by copper sheathing from the 
fate of St. Peter’s brazen toe. 

Dear Fred! the merry, handsome, stalwart brother ; 
their only one,—who was never to jest with them again; 
never again to hold wife and babes in his embrace. 
Imogen and Blanche mourned for him only less pas- 
sionately than did she who had proudly and gladly 
borne his name. Poor wife! she was denied the satis- 
faction of hearing that her name had been the last in 
his thoughts and speech; that the loyal heart had 
- never beat more lovingly for her than in its latest 
throbbings; for weeks passed before Mr. Hiller 
could speak at all, and then the disjointed utterances 
of the palsied tongue told nothing beyond the terrible 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 499 


fact that the brain had sustained serious, it might be 
irreparable, damage. <A paralytic cripple he would 
remain until the day of his death, although this half-life 
might be prolonged for years, pronounced the best mned- 
ical authorities in the land, summoned without regard 
to distance or expense, by the agonized wife. 

Stricken, smitten of Gop, and afflicted, the four wo- 
men sat them down together in the mother’s room, a 
month after the double bereavement, and took mourn- 
ful but deliberate counsel together. Their affairs were 
not at a desperate pass, as they already knew. There 
was the house in which they lived, free of mortgage, 
which would bring at least thirty thousand dollars in 
the market ; ten thousand dollars in bank stocks and 
other securities—solid, paying investments, and five 
thousand dollars’ worth of real estate—chiefly unim- 
proved lots in a growing part of the city, that might be 
very valuable in time, if they could be held and the 
taxes paid. Fred had invested. four thousand dollars 
in the latter kind of property, and his life was insured 
for ten thousand more. If Emma were to sell every- 
thing—furniture, lots and all—she would have just 
seventeen thousand dollars with which to support her- 
self, to rear and educate her boys. By living upon the 
interest of the life-insurance fund, and paying taxes on 
the real-estate for some years, she might double the lit- 
tle fortune bequeathed to her, without reserve, by her 
husband’s will. 

“T shall not touch a cent of it, if I can help it,” she 
said, in sad decision. “It shall be the father’s provi- 
sion for his sons. They will need it all, in order to edu- 
cate themselves as he would have wished. For the 


430 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


present I shall work for them and myself. You fore- 
saw this years ago, mother. I thank Gop, and thank 
you, that you prepared us to meet it!” 

“ Amen!” said her sisters fervently. “ Dark as is 
the day—so much darker than we ever dreamed it 
would be,” added Imogen, teanfully, yet trying to 
smile, “ we have much to be thankful for. We are 
strong; we know how to work; and there are papa 
and the babies, darling Fred’s sons, to work for.” 

“Papa and the babies!” Even the fond wife did 
not resent the classification. The hale gentleman 
whose half-century of honest, temperate life had not 
bowed his head or dimmed his eye; the sage, shrewd 
man of business, than whom none were more respected 
by his fellow-citizens, was a tremulous, timid child, 
who wept if his meals were delayed one minute, or his 
wife, his faithful, tender nurse, were out of his sight 
for an hour. 

“ Utterly incapable of attending to the simplest mat- 
ters connected with his business!” eried open-eyed 
Everybody, hovering, harpy-like, about the human 
wreck. “Why, he couldn’t count one hundred to 
save his life. Of course, they will get a certificate of 
lunacy from the court, and sell the house, lots, and 
whatever they can realize anything upon; put 
all they have together, and live as prudently as 
possible. The girls ought to marry before long. 
They are pretty and popular, in spite of their little 
eccentricities. It isn’t to be expected that they will 
make brilliant matches now, of course ; but they must 
bring down their ambition toa reasonable level. DBeg- 
gars mustn’t be choosers. It is unfortunate that poor 


PRACTICAL—-OR UTOPIAN ? 431 


Mrs. Corwin has those two children. But they may 
not live. Twins are more likely to die than other 
babies. And, if they should be taken, she’ll be likely 
to pick up another husband. | Her little property would 
be a consideration to some men.” 

Even the true friends of the sorely-tried family 
wished sincerely and aloud that “each of the dear girls 
had a husband to take care of her;” recommended 
them warmly to the compassionate and favorable notice 
of their bachelor acquaintances, and devised pious 
plans of matchmaking for their relief from the incon- 
veniences of their altered circumstances. 

“The worst part of it all was that poor Emma was 
encumbered with the children, who would be more and 
more expensive every year, and that poor, dear Mr. 
Hiller would be a helpless imbecile all his life. And 
what a mistake in them to refuse to treat him as such, 
and have him examined by a commission who would 
give his family the right to dispose of his property ! ” 

If the Ruler of the intellects and lives of men had 
hearkened to these benevolent economists, the crippled 
man and the brace of “unfortunate” infants would 
have been taken speedily and comfortably out of this 
present evil world. 

“Thank heaven for the babies!” uttered Blanche, 
throwing her arms about Emma’s waist. “ You dar- 
ling sister! I bless you for them every hour. What 
should we have done through all these last fearful 
weeks without them—and you? Touch their weeny 
teenty patrimony! Indeed you shall not! And more 
than that, we’ll make it a big one by the time they are 
ready to enter college.” | 


432 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


The mother, as chief counsellor, bad her plan ready 
for their consideration. The house—a large double 
one—was still to be occupied by them. The front par- 
lor was to be used for the millinery department, and 
put entirely under Blanche’s care. In the back, Imogen 
would hold sway; and a smaller apartment in the rear 
of the hall should be the fitting and trying-on chamber. 
The library across the hall, adjoming the dining-room, 
was to be the family parlor. In every other part of the 
house things were to remain unchanged. | 

“Who deserves to live more comfortably and luxn- 
riously, to rest in soft chairs and sleep upon elastic mat- 
tresses, to have generous food served elegantly to tempt 
the appetite and strengthen the body, than she who pur- 
chases all these with her own toil?” said the strange 
logician whose daughters were too used to her “ queer 
notions” to be startled bythem. “Ido not say that you 
will make money fast, or at once. I do contend that, 
saving rent, bookkeeper’s and saleswoman’s wages, as 
you will do, you ought to be able to clear your busi- 
ness and personal expenses the first year—if nothing 
more.” 

“Tf the customers come,” suggested Emma. 

Mrs. Hiller nodded confidently. “They will come! 
In the beginning, out of curiosity and the love of noy- 
elty. It will depend upon your skill whether they 
continue their custom.” 

All previous sensations respecting the Hillers—their 
odd fancies and daring talk and levelling theories ; 
Emma’s marriage and the birth of her twins; the tra- 
gical death of her husband and Mr. Hiller’s deplorable 
condition—faded into the realms of forgottenness be- 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN ¢ 433 


fore that excited by the appearance in all the leading 
papers, the following month, of an advertisement to 
the effect that the “ Misses Hiller would open on Tues- 
day, the 15th instant, at their father’s residence on 
Lofty Avenue, a first-class millinery and dressmaking 
establishment, and pledged themselves to use their 
best efforts to give satisfaction to their customers.” 

The sudden intrusion of a bee-moth into a well- 
regulated, honey-lined hive might create such commo- 
tion among the inhabitants thereof as prevailed in the 
“best circles” of the city when the Incredible was, at 
length, developed by means of printer’s ink and paper, 
into the Certain. The Hiller philosophy had wrought 
its legitimate fruits, said the wise ones. Such sympathy 
with the lower classes, and familiarity with their modes 
of thought and personal history, amounting to fanatical 
imitation of their language and habits and mercenary 
views of life; such bold scoffing at the ethics and 
usages of SOCIETY (this in capitals half an inch long, 
if you please, Mr. Printer!) could have but one sequel, 
and that a catastrophe. 

“Te it so!” enunciated resigned Everybody, in the 
calm of sinless despair. “Since the Hiller girls prefer 
to sink to the level of mere workingwomen ; to fly in 
the face of Providence that would, if they were more 
reasonable and less sentimental, endow them with 
property to the amount of at least fifty thousand dol- 
lars—sixty thousand, if poor Mrs. Corwin’s be included, 
with the certain prospect of fifteen thousand more at 
poor Mr. Hiller’s death—if they prefer, instead of 
taking the goods thus offered them and living lke 


ladies in the sphere to which they were born, faithful 
19 


434 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


to the principles that control refined SOCIETY—to 
delve and plan and accumulate, let them be recognized 
forthwith as daborers—nothing more, and nothing 
less! We, the loyal leaguers of SOCIETY, true to 
the traditions of our class and age, cannot more effec- 
tually and dignifiedly exclude them from our sacred 
circle than by patronizing and paying them as dress- 


makers and milliners. They have exquisite taste. ° 


That we, being candid even where our enemies 
are concerned, will admit. They have also, tact and 
energy, and association with US in the past has given 
them just ideas of our style and needs. While we do 
not budge an inch from our belief and precept that 
they should have starved genteelly ; lived on bread and 
tea, dyed and turned and otherwise rejuvenated their 
friends’ cast-off dresses ; shivered over pinched-in grates 
in winter and sponged upon obliging acquaintances in 
summer—sooner than thus degrade themselves and 
betray their caste for the sake of pampering their flesh 
with the delicacies of the markets, and their pride by 
indulging in purple and fine linen, in damask and cut- 
glass, in Brussels and satin—we”—concluded_ breath- 
less Everybody, “accept the situation as they have set 
it before us.” 

“ But it is suicidal!” actually sobbed the well-wishers 
of the recalcitrant trio. “ They will never marry well 
now !” 

“Tnesday the 15th inst.” arrived—sharp but clear 
November weather, and the desecrated Hiller mansion 
wore its most cheerful aspect. In the back parlor the 
decks had been cleared for action, as Imogen phrased 
it, by removing the piano, a large sofa, and an inlaid 


_ ¥ 
Ee 


PRACTICAL--OR UTOPIAN ? 435 


stand or two. Imogen’s sewing machine and chair 
were by the side window. Before the embayed recess 
at the end of the room was a long, rather narrow table 
of singular construction, the plan being herown. The 
top was covered with enamelled leather, with morocco 
pouches at each corner, rather larger than the pockets 
of a billiard-table, and deep drawers underneath. A 
tape-measure and a case of scissors lay upon this. The 
pictures on the walls; the carpets; the rich hangings 
of the windows; the lounging-chairs set invitingly 
about, the easel, with its collection of fine engravings . 
in one corner, a chiffonier loaded with attractive articles 
of virtu, and a few fresh, attractive books—even the 
stand of flowers in the bay-window were the same that 
had so often challenged the admiration of Mrs. Hiller’s 
guests, as giving her parlors “such an air of home-like 
elegance.” 

In Blanche’s realm there had been more and mate- 
rial alterations. In the niches on each side of the 
mantel were tall, shallow cases, with sliding glass doors. 
These were made of black walnut, and bright silver- 
plated knobs and pegs set in the back. Beneath the 
doors were drawers with handles of the same metal. 
An attractive array of bonnets and hats hung in one 
case ; of caps, and headdresses and wreaths, bouquets, 
sprays of flowers in the other, these last apparently 
springing from a box filled with moss set in the bottom. 
Opposite the mock conservatory was a show-case, being 
’ a walnut table handsomely carved, with a glass box on 
top containing ribbons arranged with a nice regard to 
harmony and contrasts of colors and shades. This also 
had drawers beneath with silver knobs. At one of the 


436 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


front windows stood Blanche’s chair and wicker-work 
stand. Hanging-baskets of living flowers swung be- 
tween the curtains; a mocking-bird’s cage in the arch 
dividing the rooms. 

Emma was walking slowly up and down the length 
of the two apartments, ready to retire, at the approach 
of customers, to her desk in the fitting-room. Her 
sisters had insisted upon her right to seclude herself 
from general observation. 

“We don’t mind being made a show of! In fact, 
we rather like it!” the irrepressible Blanche was say- 
ing. “ But they sha’n’t come to stare at, and whisper 
about you, Queenie! ” 

Her eyes sparkled; her cheeks were red as the 
French poppies in the glass case near by. Every crimp 
in her blonde hair seemed to stir in the breeze of ex- 
citement that swept and swayed her merry spirit. She 
flitted about from Imogen’s dominion to her own, 
altering, admiring, exclaiming, like a restless hum- 
ming-bird. 

“Tam sorry for you, too,” she ran on, “ for I antici- 
pate great fun during the next few weeks. All the 
calls to-day that are not prompted by curiosity, more 
or less ill-natured, will be of condolence. Don’t I 
know how our dear friends will pull out eye-glass and 
handkerchief in the same tug. ‘ You poor, dear girls!’ 
Mrs. Smith will sniff. (No matter what happens to 
you, whether you lose a front tooth, or your fortune, 
or your life, your best wishers will call you ‘ poor dear!’) 
‘Now do you think—honestly, now, you know—that it 
was really necessary for Philip Hiller’s daughters to 
take this unprecedented step ?’” 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 2 437 


“ Miss Allfriend will kiss us all around, and drop a 
tear on each of our noses, with—‘ My dear children! 
it makes my heart bleed! And how does mamma 
stand it?” And Mrs. Williams will trot in, eye-glass 
up— Bless me! bless me! I thought I should drop 
when I read it in the papers! Sucha shock! You can’t 
really conceive! Bromide and red lavender all night, 
my dears! I assure you!’ ” 

“Hold your saucy tongue!” laughed Imogen, in 
spite of herself, and even Emma smiled at the spirited 
mimicry. 

Blanche rattled away fasterthan ever. “Iam going 
to be prim and proper when they begin to come! One 
and all will criticise our appointments as ‘shockingly 
extravagant ;’ declare that ‘the like was never seen 
before in store or work-room—quite out of keeping, 
you know!’ and prophesy swift ruin if we keep on as 
we have begun. And we won’t hint that we paid for 
everything, our very own selves, with the money papa 
has forced upon us for the work we have done in the 
last four years. It’s none of their business! nor that 
we have some left, to repair losses, should we have any !” 

“ Dear papa! all we can do won’t bring back health 
and reason to him!” sighed Emma. “ Or life to””— 

Her eyes filled suddenly, and she would have 
hastened from the room, but Imogen caught her in her 
arms. 

“ For their sakes—those who loved and believed in 
us—and for the babies; we will acquit ourselves 
bravely, sister. There are times when work that we 
must do—systematic and sustained effort for others, is 
Gop’s best cure for soul-morbidness. / know!” 


438 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


The others exchanged a silent look over the bright 
head bowed on Emma’s shoulder—a glance of blended 
pity and indignation. Then, Blanche pulled back the 
glass door of her flower-case with needless rattle, and 
busied herself with a pendant of glossy ivy. 

“ Another year I will devise some such plan as this 
for showing off my feathers—something like an aviary 
—see if I don’t!” 

Not one of the three ever referred, in so many words, 
to the fact that handsome, accomplished Harding Wal- 
ford had not entered the house in more than a month ; 
that his visits had slackened perceptibly in frequency 
and length since it became generally known that Mr. 
Hiller would never recover. He had been Imogen’s 
most devoted attendant for almost a year. Her family 
had not doubted what would be her answer to the de- 
claration they saw was pending. The world reported 
that he had broken a positive engagement, and ran no 
risk in so doing, since she had neither father nor brother 
to defend her rights. But there was not, on this ac- 
count, meted out to him a formidable share of censure. 
He was “ the best judge of his own affairs.” He was 
not rich. Had he been, he might still, with reason, 
hesitate to take a step that would entail upon him such 
a weight of responsibility as would a connection with 
the no longer prosperous Hillers, even had not Imogen’s 
eccentric conduct of late, in banding with her sisters 
“to undermine the distinctions of SOCIETY,” been 
ample excuse for his defection. He was wise in his 
generation, and the applause showered upon him who 
doeth good unto himself, was his due. SOCIETY 
always pays.this sort of debt. 


PRACTICAL—-OR UTOPIAN ? 439 


Only—Imogen had believed in him; and the shiver- 
ing of her trust beyond the hope of repair, was very 
hard to bear. So much more cruel than the thought 
of being the target of gossip’s shafts, that the latter 
rattled unheeded against her armor of proud rectitude 
that day, and ever afterward. Desertion had stung its 
worst when the man she loved had looked for the last 
time, with love-full eyes, into hers. 

Customers did come; singly, in twos and threes, 
and, a little past midday, when they had discussed 
the Hillers’ affairs comfortably over their luncheon- 
tables, in droves. They gathered in the spacious 
rooms, as Mrs. Hiller had predicted, not so much to 
buy or order, as to criticise and wonder. The most 
comic part of the exhibition to fun-loving, dauntless 
Blanche was that so many were disconcerted at find- 
ing that they were not singular in their curiosity 
and the resolve to gratify it. Hardly second to this 
was the ludicrous uncertainty on the part of most of 
the visitors as to the proper line of conduct to be pur- 
sued in greeting the gentlewomen so abruptly trans- 
formed into trades-people whom they were here to 
scrutinize. That the cordial yet respectful familiarity 
of equals was not to be thought of, now, was the dom- 
inant impression with the. majority. Yet few were so 
indurated in worldliness, or so barefaced in the display 
of it as to attempt to treat their late social compeers 
exactly as they would “ quite common persons.” The 
result was a combination of stiffness and patronage 
totally at variance with the carriage of well-bred ease, 
flavored with hauteur, they adjudged to be “ the thing 
in the circumstances.” 


440 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


The proprietors of the elegant apartments were mis- 
tresses of themselves and the position from the begin- 
ning. With a single eye to business, they adroitly 
evaded all allusion to the novelty of the scene; re- 
ceived the compliments to their establishments and 
their wares with smiling composure; showed the stock 
and took orders with professional dexterity, and en- 
tirely ignored glances and veiled hints of commisera- 
tion. 

“Have you no assistants?” queried more than one. 

“At present, none,” Imogen returned, quietly. 
“Should our business require it, we shall procure help, 
keeping everything, of course, under our own personal 
supervision.” 

“Tt is not an untried field to us, you know,” sub- 
joined Blanche, in her blithest tone. “ Much practice 
has taught us swiftness and the artistic sleight of hand 
that distinguishes the work of the modiste from that 
of the amateur.” 

The rooms were quite full when a plain but hand- 
some carriage stopped at the door. A lady alighted 
with her arms full of bundles, followed by two slender 
girls of eighteen and twenty, each with a parcel, al- 
though the footman stood idly by, holding the door. 

“Just like her!” murmured a spectator inside the 
front window, peeping through the lace curtains. 
“She prides herself on her want of what she calls 
false shame, and on being able to wait on herself.” 

A hum ran from the tattler through the little assembly. 
Blanche, who was showing a box of feathers to a cus- 
tomer, feigned not to hear it; dared not to steal a look 
at her sister, although she longed to know how she com- 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN ? A41 


ported herself in view of the approaching ordeal. She 
was the only one present whose eyes were not directed 
instantly toward the young dressmaker as she advanced 
a few steps to meet the new arrivals. Foremost in the 
group was the mistress of the carriage, a stately figure, 
richly attired, who wore her own gray hair folded 
smoothly above a pair of black brows and searching, 
usually severe eyes. They softened and shone at sight 
of the form in deep mourning, awaiting her pleasure, 
perhaps reading through the guise of lady-like self- 
possession the secret trouble that fluttered heart and 
pulse, while the trained features served the resolute 
will faithfully. 

“ My dear child!” she said, impulsively, holding 
fast to her parcels, but bending to kiss the cheek which 
flushed high under the salute. 

Her daughters pressed forward to bestow caresses as 
affectionate upon “dear Imogen,” the family having 
recently returned from abroad. Their mother allowed 
them no time for inquiries or condolence. 

“Tam very, very glad to see you looking so well and 
bright !” she pursued, in a breezy, cheerful tone, nei- 
ther shrill nor loud, but one that could make itself 
heard whenever and by whomsoever she willed. “I 
didn’t mean that my first call should be one of business, 
but I suppose you wouldn’t admit me upon any other 
plea, in business hours. But there’s the great Huntley 
wedding, week after next, you know, and the girls 
haven’t enough finery to warrant their appearance 
there—just from Paris, too! So we have come to cast 
ourselves upon your generosity and beg you, for the 


sake of old times and present friendship, to make us 
12* 


442 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


presentable. Unless you are too severely taxed already 
by the importunate friends of whom I see so many 
present. Jlow isthe dear father to-day? You must 
let me see him and mamma before I leave — and 
Emma and the babies! You mustn’t exelude us from 
the other parts of the house because you have taken to 
practicalities in sober, serious earnest. We would re- 
bel outright, and en masse—after having been wel- 
comed, during so many years, to the pleasantest home 
in the city!” 

Imogen had led the way into the other parlor while 
the lady talked, and was now undoing the wrappings 
of the three silk dresses, and opening boxes of rare, 
fine lace on the long table. Her back was to the 
groups of attentive listeners to the foregoing monologue, 
and the keen eyes beside her saw her fingers shake, the 
long, brown lashes fall quickly to hide the unshed 
tears. 

“You are very good!” said a gentle, grateful voice. 
“But I felt sure you would be!” 

“My love!” <A strong and not small hand—un- 
gloved—a superb diamond solitaire, in itself a fortune, 
flashing on it as the guard to a worn wedding-ringe— 
covered the chill, uncertain fingers, busy with paper 
and twine. Imogen felt the warmth and thrill of the 
pressure to her very heart. “If you ever dare to say 
another word like that, Pll never forgive you! Trim- 
mings, style, everything—we leave to you, Imogen, my 
dear!” she continued, aloud. If you can make my 
girls half as distingué as you are yourself in full dress, 
or home-dress either, for that matter, I shall be satis- 
fied. I always told you you were a genius in your pro- 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 2 443 


fession—creative, not merely imitative genius. It was 
a shame that you did not give others the benefit of it 
before now. It is refreshing to one who has cultivated 
any taste for the esthetic, to look about your rooms. 
1 have lively hopes that dress may be understood and 
studied as one of the fine arts among us in time. You 
will be known in this generation and region, at least, 
as a benefactress. We go into another room to be 
measured, did you say?” 

She swept her daughters before her into the fitting- 
room, and a buzz and rustle succeeded the silence her 
entrance had caused. 

In Blanche’s hearing no one could comment openly 
upon what had passed. But there were significant 
whispers and wondering looks, and by the time the 
gossips reached the street, much and prolonged discus- 
sion with regard to this episode in the history of “ open- 
ing day.” 

For the eccentric old lady who could afford to defy 
the dictate of SOCIETY, and exercised her right, was 
Mrs. Horatio Harding, whose own veins were full of 
old, rich Dutch blood, and whose husband was a mer- 
chant prince, and Mr. Harding Walford was her 
nephew-in-law. If she had set her mind upon making 
the Hiller girls the fashion, she had carried her point 
triumphantly. With a sort of insolent grace, perhaps, 
at which people grumbled while they obeyed her, but 
she had had her way, as usual. Mrs. Horatio Harding 
had “ opinions,” and it was not always safe or pleasant 
to oppose her. 

“ You may not know that you have done us a great 
service—one for which we can never pay you aright,” 


444 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA. 


said Imogen to her at the close of “ the season’s” work. 
“ But youhave! That we have succeeded beyond our 
most sanguine expectations is due, in a large measure, 
to the foothold you gave us that first day. If othe 
women who have as much influence would use it to 
free, not enslave, their sex; to overcome, instead of 
strengthening the prejudices that bear so hardly upon 
us already, what a change would be wrought in homes 
where the few strive and toil, and the many are served!” 

The strong white hand with the glittering solitacre, 
was raised threateningly. 

“What did I tell you? Iwill not be praised for do- 
ing asimple act of justice, especially when my heart, as 
well as my conscience, moved me toit. And you, my 
sweet child, may not know that you have had a narrow 
escape from marrying aman who has proved himself 
no more worthy to mate with you than am 1 with one of 
the holy men of old—those of whom the world was not 
worthy. But you have. That is all I shall ever say on 
the subject. But I think the more for my reserve when 
with you. And Harding Walford knows thatIdo. I 
am not reticent in his hearing. Don’t attempt to defend 
him! He has lost you, and that ought to be punishment 
enough for one who is capable of appreciating you. 
Not that he ever was.” 

“T don’t want him to be punished, dear Mrs. Hard- 
ing,” replied Imogen, gently. ‘“ He only swam with 
the tide.” 

“Precisely! and to deserve such a wife as you would 
make, a man ought to be strong of soul and right of 
purpose. Don’t talk to me about moral cowards! I 
think I was born hating them?” 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN ¢ ALS 


Two years later, this steady friend dropped in to sce 
the sisters on a gloomy afternoon in February. The 
light from the front windows made long, clean cuts in 
the clinging yellow fog without, across the rimy pave- 
ment to the carriage, with its liveried coachman and 
fine horses. Passers-by, on their way to humble homes, 
lifted eyelids beaded with the icy damp, and thought 
how lucky were the dwellers in the stately house ; how 
much-to-be envied the guest who rode in state above the 
mire of the common ways. ‘Those who recognized the 
liveries, and knew whose was the dwelling, pondered, 
more or less wonderingly, upon the incongruity of the 
unabated intimacy, and speculated, perhaps, upon the 
probabilities that the Harding pride would have re- 
volted at a matrimonial alliance between a scion of 
their house and one of the “reduced” family, for all 
Mrs. Horatio’s show of friendship. It was a lucky 
thing, decided eight out of ten of those who consid- 
ered the matter, that young Walford had not com- 
mitted himself irrevocably before the “ misfortune ” 
that showed him how near he was to the edge of 
the abyss. Hehad made a desirable match last fall, 
and was now travelling in Europe with his heiress 
bride. 

Little cared guest or hostesses what the outside world 
thought or believed respecting their intercourse. Em- 
ma’s boys were building block houses on the back parlor 
floor. The three sisters were gathered about the centre- 
table in the other room, talking in low voices over their 
work. Mrs. Harding stopped in the doorway on seeing 
their grave faces, and that they were making black 
erépe bonnets. | 


446 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA, 


“A mourning order!” she said, in her unceremoni- 
ous way. “ Anybody that I know?” 

‘“ Not an order exactly,” explained Imogen, when 
they had welcomed her. “ But poor Mr. Sibthorpe has 
gone at last, and Blanche proposed that we should 
spare the widow and three unmarried daughters the 
expense of bonnets and veils; so we are making them 
aud the widow’s caps out of work hours. We do our 
charity work at such odd times you know—and _to- 
gether. 

“You are the Blessed Three Sisters—that everybody 
knows!” uttered the visitor. “I don’t believe I could 
set a stitch for that tribe of lazy locusts! Amelia, the 
married one, is no better. Her husband failed awhile 
ago, as you may remember, and she is too proud to 
help him in the small haberdasher’s shop he has lately 
Set up; sits at home like a—I won’t say lady—but an 
idiotic automaton—” 

“ Who ever heard of an intellectual one?” langhed 
Blanche. 

“No pertness, miss! I don’t pick my terms when I 
am excited. She sits in the small parlor over the 
store, as I was saying, and curries favor with wealthy 
and charitable ladies by cutting sponge and velvet into 
monkey and black-and-tan terrier pen-wipers for fancy 
fairs. What are the Sibthorpe’s going to do, now that 
the man they murdered among them is dead ? ” 

“ His life was insured ”—began Emma. 

“Viumph!” interrupted Mrs. Harding. “ You 
needn’t proceed. They will eat the insurance up to 
the last dollar, and by that time the boys will be big 
enough to divide the women among them; to carry 


PRACTICAL—-OR UTOPIAN 2 AAT 


them bodily—their expenses, that is—as we see ants 
running about with egg sacs bigger than themselves on 
their shoulders. I know the old, hideous story by 
heart. Drop the subject.” 

“Let. me give you a piece of news that will enter- 
tain you better,” said Blanche, merrily. “One of the 
Payne girls—Sophia, the youngest—is going to marry 
a widower with eight children—all at home.” 

“Serves her right! But lam sorry for the children. 
(F0.0n 1? 

“The happy man is a Mr. Gregorias, of Spanish ex- 
traction. He is small and withered, and reported to 
be rich as cream. So Arethusa says. The wedding 
dress is to be of white satin, with point lace veil and 
flounces—-the gift of the groom.” 

“Have you undertaken the trousseau?” queried 
Mrs. Harding, fixing her keen gaze upon Imogen. 

“No,” she answered, coloring as she smiled. “TI 
have declined making any engagements for the spring. 
I am going abroad for a year in May, and Blanche does 
not want a stranger here in my place.” 

“Markham Burke 2s the man,then! My love! I 
congratulate you with all my heart. I have been on 
thorns all winter about you and the noble fellow. I 
was afraid you had some Quixotic notions that would 
stand in the way of his happiness and yours.” 

“No; why should I have?” rejoined the jiancée, 
speaking quietly and sensibly. ‘“ We are not vowed to 
our trades, or to celibacy. Markham says there is no 
need that he, with his ample means, should let me keep 
up my business. Whatever I have made, he insists 
upon settling upon me. He would have had me divide 


448 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TIDA. 


it all between Blanche and Emma, but they would not 
allow it.” 

‘“T should hope not!” cried Blanche, energetically. 
‘Two women who can take care of themselves!’ ” 

“ Blanche will enlarge her department,’ continued 
Imogen, “ now that I will leave her room. You should 
hear her plans of making a temple of art—not of 
fashion alone—in these two parlors. It will be very 
beautiful. She can afford to indulge her taste in these 
respects. She is making money.” 

‘“‘ Means to be a nabob-ess before she dies—or mar- 
ries,” interjected the youngest sister. 

“You are a mercenary witch,” said Mrs. Harding. 
“Emma, Mr. Harding says your lots are rising in value 
fast, and the price of land in that quarter of the city 
is sure to increase with tenfold rapidity during the 
next dozen years. He would not advise you to close 
with the offer made you last week, unless you need the 
money.” 

“Thank you and him!” replied the young widow. 
‘““T am not anxious to sell. Let it grow for the boys. 
It belongs to them. The rest of us are provided for. 
Even for mamma there is enough and to spare. We 
have never been tempted by the various straits of 
poverty and shabby gentility to wish for our father’s 
death, that we might profit by Azs life-insurance policy. 
Feeble as he is, his cheerfulness, his patience and af- 
fection for us all, make his a very bright presence in 
our home. It is a priceless comfort to us all that he 
is not compelled, when he needs them most, to relin- 
quish the home and luxuries he toiled so long and 
bravely to obtain for us.” 


PRACTICAL—OR UTOPIAN 2 449 


“You can’t imagine what pride and delight he takes 
in the boys!” exclaimed Blanche. “We really hope 
he may live to see them grown.” 

“It is the story of the old storks and their young, to 
the life,” said Mrs. Harding to her husband that night. 


“T used to think ita fable. I believe now that it is 
true, out and out!” 





INDEX. 


PAGE 
BOGS .c. 6.05 18 
PaHOUS MES 5. o sence css 27 
Eggs baked (Vo. 1)......... 20 
Se ANGRY wc. ss» 20 
PRPS Cc << aiid ed 8s 21 
Eggs forcemeat............. 27 
PU UEIGOBSOR I. . oc ches eas 3s 21 
‘¢ poached @ la Bonne 
RII oa wi 5 ¢.0 50 24 
‘¢ poached with mush- 
04 e1aa' Sap | aan aa 25 
‘* scalloped (hard-boiled)... 28 
~ J (POW) oo. 2. 5 22 
Pe METINO pony Yeas FA 4.2 oie «2's 22 
PRU GAETSIOATMAM nis. <n cc es ae 3 
2 ee 19 
sy MS a ee 24 
‘¢ with anchovy toast.... 26 


Entrées and Relishes of Fish. 29 
Cold fish—what to do with.. 29 
Cod or halibut—baked..... . 386 
** (salt) au maitre @hotel.. 48 
st  % 'with-cheese....... 44 
EG 44 
666 with egg sauce... 43 
66 66 +6 66 = 44 


Cutlets of halibut, cod or sal- 
Cutlets of halibut, cod or sal- 
Mone le Tene solo ss es 
Eels stewed a@ l’ Allemande... 
He “ - aVAmericain... 
ELIOSOBEER yo tA ctvin See. u, 8 
Fish-balls 


66 


eocscee eos eee eee eee 


| Roes of cod or shad ( fried)... 


Sauce for the above........ 


eceereeeee ee eeee eevee oe 


Roes scalloped: .3.... 0.4.5 +s. 
Salmon, baked with cream 
cutlets en papillote. 
OVALE oe cna sei bve 


(7 
66 


66 


Sauce for the above........ 
Salmon, mayonnaise of 
Dressing for above......... 
Salmon, smoked (broiled)... 


‘¢ ~~ steaks, or cutlets 
CPPRU oka: ones 
‘¢ steaks, or cutlets 
(OPOMED:. 5 2. V's Ves 
‘¢ stewed 


coo e etree ese e 


SHELL FISH. 
Lobster, curried 


PAGE 


29 
30 
30 
30 
31 


36 
38 
42 
39 


ag 


452 


Lobster, devilled........... 
= outletas, oat Geacer 
se croquettes ........- 
A fricassee iki. ss se 
ee pudding 2 sa sss 

Sauce for the above........ 

Lobster rissoles............ 

Sauce for the above... .... 

Lobster scalloped (Wo. 1)... 
66 3 (No. 2)... 
oe SLOWER gotaine ch eee 

Oysters, boiled in the shell. . 
“S, --bkouled eee cwce eee 
tts AS VAH Orta ete 
Oia abher arc eer 
tf OPRBMOG WEES acess 
‘¢ scalloped (Vo. 1)... 
ee rie CNonsias 
$)  opbewred tz ae pate 

Oyster Pates i. Jso0, sae oe 
‘bs ple: (Crean)... 8. ste ae 

Turtle fricassee............ 

PATUS. 0s, ov 

Patés, chicken: ............ 
ee C8) 2. ORE e abies Bera Ig 

att OE TIGNES, 5 pate tug seers 
28 wISs etwas ate ares 


Paté of beef and potato,.... 
‘“* de foie gras (tmitation). 
sé 
‘* ofsweetbreads........ 

White sauce for the above.. 


CROQUETTES.... 
Croque¢ttes, beef........... 
ry chicken.gc: <9. 
66 


INDEX 

PAGE 
49 | Croquettes, game.......... 
46 st hominy 2) cee 
46 ¥s of lobster or crab 
45 he potato... 20.06. 
47 a TIC" Wie eee . 
47 a veal and ham,, 
45 che venison or mut- 
46). ton.c\ 4ace 
50} Cannelon of veal.......... 
50 . DOE Tics wae 
49 | A pretty breakfast dish..... 

55 
57 SWEETBREADS... 
“ Sweetbreads, brown, fricas- 
53 ee see of (Wo.1). 
56 ‘s brown, fricas- 
56 A see of (Vo. 2). 
58 . white, fricassee 
59 Ol. pe ee 
59 st broiled... 533 
52 ve larded (fried) . 
i _ (stewed) 
68 tt roasted . 22s... 
4h sautés au vin.. 

69 
70 KIDNEYS...... 
Kidneys, @ la brochette...... 
"3 ae broiled... 7s coos 
73 ee Sri. 10.8) Pelee 

6 ée 

fh “< showed 2... .45 0.28 
69 as ‘¢ with wine.. 
sf toasted i, eek cea 

%5 
of HASTE OR WASTE? 
77|MEATS, INCLUDING 
79| POULTRY AND GAME, 


96 


95 


98 


108 





INDEX. 453 
PAGE PAGE 
Calf’s brains, fried......... 115 | Rechauffée of veal andlam. 131 
- pom toast, ...... M6) Roast quails... 20.66... ss 12% 
<- “head;a-mould of..... 114 | Roulade of beef............ 131 
ph ‘* ragott, or imita- a rath ys. 2. +. 132 
tion turtle..... Hip malmb of gamercy.’.54 12.6. 125 
eae emeeanG of, .. and Scalloped chicken.......... 119 
mushrooms.... 118; ‘ Mitt Rr Se RA 120 
‘6 liver, d 2 Anglaise.... 108 iS Deel eas: Pyelcme oe 120 
aS Pamiecmoues.., 111) Veal cutlets... 00.0.7... 46. 116 
= ME KQOHUNO. .-. ss OD ern tea RPEROVET acs cic 4-siere 8 od 118 
s ‘*¢  fricassee of.... 111 | Wild duck or grouse braised. 127 
fs SO Same ew 3 Saesis (LEO 
Chickens, ‘fried. .........., 132 CERIN, Y Peles vn ore 141 
; SMP WOLE: «o.< ee. 133 
6 ‘Camothered ”..... 133 SAUADS oy -.a: 146 
2. ‘ with Salad, cabbage. . 6.25.00. 147 
a oysters. . Roepe... 134) « UGC OI Perec wd oe koe 149 
ee ees, “ Jobster, without oil... 148 
ey eee of. aa A : ee Nie LL OBSIU OC ate y tere eoaiece ¢ 148 
rr a eggs eee oe NATE DUSURE ut Ooo w cet 146 
fricassee a PItal- ‘¢ cream dressing for.... 151 
A ee 128) a dressing, golden...... 152 
Howl, devilled............. 125] « ‘ potato...... 153 
PAIANUING . os is oa w's 0 Sec keO 
Game or poultry in savory | VARIOUS PREPARATIONS 
jelly cece ene ece eocee eseee 138 OF CHEESE......... ee 154 
Jellied tongue............. 187 
. AC whole .o.,.3. 140 | Cheese biscuits............ 156 
Meat and potato puffs...... 119 haga 5 seer SNR ae a pe 156 
Mince of veal or lamb...... 121 SS LODUU . viet cae eee 157 
Mock pigeons ............. 1G ‘¢ with macaroni...... 155 
Ollapodrida of lamb........ 109 BOON OR PEs i Nae Guee Mahe 160 
Quenelles......... Ce 130 Ce oe DUG oy (Pr eee, 161 
sd 50 Se 131 seo" sand Wichess. os. 0. 161 
Rabbit, brown fricassee of,. 122 Eine OPUS oss os ees 154 
‘¢ white ss 121 BT HORSLOGA eatin Vee 154 
Bet EEE OO Sc So 6 og cs ae . 123 | Cream Cheese (Vo, 1)...... 158 
Seep MOWULER co cs. a ss BASS DS TE PAIN OBA) a oe ain - 160 
oe a a nee ee 126 | Ramaking.,. 24.2: ces se stOd 


454 


POTATOES...... 


Potatoes @ la Duchesse...... 
33 ‘© Lyonnaise,.... 
a UItalienne...... = 


gcalidped? ccs e 
stewed. suss+5 6s 
PURO: OF 28 eka. ee ee 


LUNCHEON..... 
VEGETABLES.... 


Baked tomatoes 
Devilled ‘ 


. 
eceereoeeeoe 


Fried egg plant. © ..... <2 4. 
Mock fried oysters......... 
‘¢ stewed ‘ 


e+eee seee 


BREAKFAST-ROLLS, MUF- 


FINS, THA-CAKES, ETC. 


Batter or egg-bread, south- 
a BTU 7s shite shee 
AS: OpPeRA AVR Deets ee 


Boiled mush, to be eaten with 


-e@@eeeevevert %e 


Corn-bread, Adirondack .... 
= £8 load Seance es ae 


“¢ Ghrissie’s 


meal muffins (7a/sed) . 

; ay ‘S  (qtttek).... 
bar DOBBE. .:..0 5 ase aoa © 

Crumpets, hominy 

Crumpets, rice 


INDEX 
PAGE PAGE 
163 | Excellent muffins.......... 186 
Graham gems (Wo. 1)...... 187 
16 O66 Nig See 187 
163 (0) AC NG Oe eee 188 
165 | Milk porridge............2- 181 
164 | Minute biscuit (brown).... 187 
164 Oatmeal ‘“ (for breakfast) 181 
163 ‘¢ gruel (for tivalids). 181 
166 | Rolls, French............. 182 
“3 plain, lights. <2, ss 183 
168} ‘* tea..:: Tok eee 182 
3 all -days.5t ieee 184 
172 | Quickloa¥, 2-07: eee 185 
Rusk: (Hoodia eee 188 
tee Susie's (V0. '2). 5.566 188 
174 | soda bigonit, without milk. 160 
178) Unity load. gh eee 185 
172 
172 
173 GRIDDLE CAKES.... 191 
Cakes, buttermilk. ......... 191 
Cornmeal flapjacks...... . 192 
176 | Cakes, farina griddle...... 194 
“*. pramdma’s. 7. os sae . 192 
‘¢ Graham, griddle.... 195 
179 | °° * nipet arose sae . 198 
180} ‘* rice or hominy...... 192 
“<- . pour Tmt ye aye eee 191 
180 ‘¢  Susie’s flannel...... 194 
186 
176 
WHAT I KNOW ABOUT 
me EGG-BEATERS..... 196 
179 
176 
178 WHIPPED CREAM.... 203 
aie Fancy Dishes for Dessert, 208 
189 | An almond Charlotte..... . 214 
183 se ee . O18 


INDEX. 455 

PAGE PAGE 

Chocolate blanc-mange. ... 219 | Trifle, tipsy ........ ..... 216 

_ i and Trifles, queen of. 52. 7,..... Ro4 

OLGUie cs. +. malts ULLeb OPEN ys oi se aisles olee 212 

ve custards (baked). 220) Tutti frutti jelly ........... 234 

zs (boiled). 221 | Velvet cream.......... eee 1U 
Oreme- G0 Cale... cus... ee 218 

a OROCOIRG).T6-6. 5. 218 PUDDINGS OF VARI-. 

3 DSA dT Se a 217 OUS: KINDS: .*..... 238 
MABUCTOSOR ig .c. ove we cess 210 

Glnde OfAngeR. Fw 5s se nee 209 | Puffs, chocolate............ 259 

RE ee ol oP adn ons woe pallies oh COlee “Cream 2%)... ...% 259 

pee CNALATU Oe, 6. aks a Leet hee COINM CALs Oks ae sce Oe 

DOM OEALCL. ce Gyre vs css « OMe se ©) COALS Foe we cae pose ois 258 

¢ lemon Ree ee Fe hrs ste eee aie eo 207 

eOILOUE OG. rene cee cies s ee er EIOTMON Sys 5 ce fa sees 208 

WAPOA ey shu sss + > vas Ao 9 OS CSEESIIN CATS 05 w Ege NS eR 257 

PP CAE tae ehtine cS So's moon - -°.- Vanilla cream, ....... 209 

‘¢ raspberry and cur- MPR ALILE teceact a 80 2 cari oe 260 

PRU oy cease = 233 | Pudding, almond corn-starch 244 

SP SIVAWDEITY... 2/5. : 232 - ids ok aha. pollgp stip 239 

ae ar 289 = ‘¢  sponge.... 269 

Jellies, note upon..... Sera, eOO ‘¢ apple batter...... 255 

Macaroon basket.......... 230 . ‘¢ and batter.. 283 

Naples sponge............. 213: ie BSE UE BOMEUG Ah or see 280 

Narcissus blanc-mange..... 216 ‘¢  arrowroot (cold).. 242 

Ribbon jelly and cream..... 209 wy as (hot) .. 248 

Pe ees ha ea es sc so 221 $k SW BOULNG, ac ae oe 

Snow, apple (Wo. 1)...... 226 ‘¢ baked apple...... 255 

“ 4 (Wo. 2)..... 226 ‘¢ boiled apple...... 254 

- TOMER Si aaenss ts 227 8 SECESSION Seah 268 

orange...... 227 ely poston, ay ee 270 

as Re sa 5S 'a:8 a 228 ss < -oranye. 27.0210 

oF PAGO os ooo eos 228 ‘¢ bread and raisins. 249 

TOUT eS kr 229 PEt ie WBHWOT NS Corea ste ahs 282 

Trifle, anambushel........ 222 Tre GUCORNUG. cles sire 276 

EE Oe 223 * ‘¢ sponge... 265 

Pee: ee 224 ‘s cornmeal fruit.... 246 

BS AAD ois olen 6 vs 227 ‘¢ cherry bread.... 250 

as) BUEAWDOITY....... .. 217 Mr) CULANE Nes eaten 251 


456 INDEX. 
PAGE PAGH 
Pudding, cherry soufflé..... 279 | Pudding, southern rice... . 240 
‘¢ cornmeal without os SAO, . ce eee 243 
OSA Saw colin sn Meas 246 sponge-cake soufilé 279 
ot Derry tec ccaseee rs 267 uy Susie’s bread..... 248 
$f ow ishea nwarat eae. 283 steamed ‘“ .... 251 
‘¢ English tapioca... 242 ? tapioca custard.... 241 
ct Essex fy. cee een 253 a Wayne... ..o2 oe . 268 
Me Satine Oech ee 247 ee Whibe. syqictenere 261 
‘¢  farmer’s plum.... 274 oa Willie’s favorite... 250 
OF IY aa nee taka ee 262 | Jelly puddings). 3.02 ee 274 
“ tt CCUGEATO os 55 262 | A very delicate soufflé...... 282 
66 bc LL Sper rs te 263 | Léche créma soufflé........ 27 
6 fruit bread....... 248 | Peach léche créma......... 256 
SS ‘¢ sponge cake Rice merimgue..... Be oye 240 
(boiled). . 265 | Rosie’s rice custard ........ 241 
J ‘* sponge cake 
(baked).. 266 FRITTERS...... 284 
Ht  ASStY en ce ae 246 
‘© impromptu Christ- Fritters, apple, vs. fees 287 
tiAs ee ee 276 Be bellsc s32c3 eee 284 
LES, aR Ce Ny a 271 a cornmeal.......... 289 
“ “ goufllé...... 277; Cream... .- +12. 0. 291 
‘¢ macaroni and al- a curd... , » 293 
monde. cere 252 4 currant, io. go. ee 286 
66 marrow sponge.. 263 J bemonis 63 degen 287 
‘© nursery plum..... 275 os Hehtsou Acton 286 
Cy orange: teksts. 267 ‘‘ peach (with yeast). 290 
‘© orange custard.... 272 uf potato... isgas vee 291 
‘© peach batter...... 256 ee TICS Asie 3 SR ee 288 
«© plain boiled (Wo. 1) 273 roll, or imitation 
6 66 ‘6 (No. 2) 278 doughnuts....... 292 
‘© plain macaroni... 253 TUSK. bois ssl eae 285 
«© plain sponge-cake. 264 ‘ sponge-cake....... 292 
i Queen's: . .. sce es 271 
‘© yice-flour, hasty... 247 CONCERNING ALLOW- 
re rice with fruit.... 238 ANCES. ter coe wee 294 
6b) Arudicsy ce 7 ces 261 ( Confidential—with John.) 
s¢ rock custard...... 272 
66 


RIPE FRUIT.... 308 


: 
+ ae Ps. ee 


INDEX. 457 


PAGE PAGE 
Apples and jelly ........... 313 | Cake, mother’s cup......... 322 
SIUEGE PORTE. , oc okcie es ss. Ee Vee NMEOTTIS wie oligo ea g's 326 
Boiled chestnuts........... 314| ‘* Mont Blanc.......... 326 
Cocoanut frost on custard... 312; ° JUNG sco eas Peo 327 
Frosted peaches ........... 810] ‘* molasses fruit........ 333 
Frosted and glacé oranges.. 311] ‘* Myrtle’s............. 304 
OO eh s ori) se we she apne pian > Iny lagw swe, <2 4s 329 
Stewed apples............. Bipdn * PEURTER) coe imei we 329 
ETOPICRIAILOW 6 oe Sse cece es Be ciimee. bie MLAY Rs rete des ok 3s 338 


Walnuts and hickory nuts... 314] ‘ Neapolitan (yellow, 
pink, white, and 


CAKES OF ALL KINDS. 316 DLO Wil ogee cic e500 823 
Sra VOLO Wit nae «hid oes a. 323 
GAGs BDO. 6. aids es ise ok vise oir jas pink and white. >... .< 323 
ze pS Pe DE ae ss PO WLOWUN ees 5 vias! cm i Sve 324 
‘¢ a Charlotte @ la Pari- “ Haat are. seein. dei 324 
eesrere meee ew cnt) Poe. NOWATKs . 2. cc aececs 341 
‘¢ a Charlotte cachée.... 821} ‘* Nellie’s cup....... root 
Ge eORTES sk eae! s 334| ‘* ‘One, Two, Three” 
‘¢ Carolina, without eggs 316 CUT ereS sie ata's sini e'c as 340 
'SeChariatte polonaise... 319| ** orange..........0..06 318 
fs PURI iw a ces vise S19 tae** SLE CE SI RR aig 319 
SOT OROOOLRUO. os once sacs Orn ims se Orleangi 2 tees s . 825 
iz FOWAG oo 5 hc eens Griiae” ~ Pomptans. 3... : pewter 338 
“© coooannt and almond. 830; ‘* raisin.........c.0.00: 333 
- filling...... ee Gores) ivigen BGO! Scns « « 339 
** cocoanut sponge..... Cola om rel almond... ss c. 3' 39 
** cocoanut—richer..... Bel hae -senow drift. flo. 340 
SOOO Sor 'sjce os. 0 2 Soc he: TURE OVI dn 0:ai 6 she 340 
ICS. Re Bete 2 pit bANGc es sa. tikes ove: 828 
4 AD cgik a's cig seus Bein Ok BEAUY eras os canis was . 333 
SAEED hs be sews ees Boies WUIGOL tek a so klnie .. 316 
‘¢ corn-starch cup...... GOOG lee <a WINS. st ee kere a ax cae. 
Ge CER fa ncko's= » 1.0 0.0.0 344 | Cakes, almond—small..... . 300 
‘6 Fanny’s..........--.- 821| ‘*  cocoanut—small..... 345 
‘¢ -F red’s favorite....... Bau Wales) CKORMY. . oc uade heats «2 300 
A RI eral ge vias BSG ba. *% eet. oes seams B51 
<> trait.and nub... ..... . 841| *  citron—small........ 352 


‘6 §=6Jeanie’s fruit........ 337 eG Queens. . cs stash a een 
20 


458 INDEX. 

PAGE | PAGR 
Cakes, rich drop........... 346.| Noyau. 1.25.5 yun a7 
<< -yose 1GYOP,S esas fe 345 | Orange cream.............- 373 
‘6. « ‘BROW EGTOPES: he eee 346 | Porteree, very fine......... 366 
{ . -owartegaheds) 20. #i 5.6 845 | Punch, milk (hot).......... 367 
Cookies, Bertie’s........... 347 S. raat TM eee 368 
4 CAITAWSY. ic o- tesae 300 <(  Glesety <a ae eee 369 
Kelloge Witivae ean 347)| Rose syrups sic: - aves eee 

Ee lemoni.t4.0 3 .... 849| Shrub, currant and raspber- 
as Montrose.......... 348 TV. See 369 
ed Aunt Molly’s...... 348 ‘%  Tenions.. 0s aes eee 370 
BE ORR GL, te eee ae 348 “ strawberry.).. 2.2 u29ore 
= reir acs saa gs Sb 353 | Tea @ la Russé.......00200 360 
Lemon macaroons.......... 349i) ts Se eigenen eee 361 
Ginger-maps.... sca ec sve 304° *© cold — 5 nase eee 361 
Efied jumblese.67 cep. eale 304'| *© milk-punch. i227. .ee ae 361 
Seed waflersis. 22.5 a eee co acs 308'| Vanilla Higuéeur.. 3)... eee ue 372 
Almond teing 4.255 seas sees 822 | White lemonade........... 365 


Genuine Scotch short-bread. 354 


Gingerbread, eggless....... 343 | FLAVORING EXTRAOTS.. 375 
ae half-cup, .....« 344 
6 Richmond.... 343 | Bitter almond............. 376 
66 SUrar sae ce 343 Lemon... sbre's 2 se .. 30d 
6s Unity........ 349 Orange 0555s suauenet Sista es 3875 
Vanilla... ase sas ae eee 375 
SLA. so-ave oc eden ate 356 PRESERVED FRUITS, 
BEVERAGES........ 360} CANDIES, Ete.......... 378 
A cozy for a teapot........ 362 | Candy, peanut............. 383 
A summer drink. (to... <s cs 362 ‘¢ Dotty Dimple’s vine- 
Coffee with whipped cream.. 368 par iiviyes.eee .. 304 
Café au lait, frothed........ 363 ‘¢ lemon cream........ 384 
ie i Boyar. s 2. sae Oot ‘¢ marbled cream...... 386 
Chocolate, frothed......... 363 “( - . SUpeRShiteses ae ce 387 
A SEED x's vhs che 364 | Candied lemon peel........ 381 
BLE ARCS 5 4 er oi eg era N 365 | Cranberries..45 0. sects see 383 
BEURCOG i oc sees oh ans ss .. d71 | Cherries, canned........... 381 
Ginger cordial........ tee au coun 60 GCE acm vals oe 381 
Mulled ale. .....+..0.:0005. 307 | Chocolate caramels......... 885 
PES WING cards ae seen, OOO “ cream drops....- 386 








INDEX. 459 
PAGE PAGE 
Maple SyTOD.. :...c0.c5.. ss 382 | For sudden hoarseness..... 388 
Marmalade, apple....... .. 378| “ fa ae 388 
i Dundee orange. 380 | Mixture for cleaning black 
sg OTERSG, <i e wos . 379| cloth, or worsted dresses. 393 ~ 
My pear and quince 379 | Mustard plasters........... 391 
Parting words;: 5 .c8@2.3..% 398 
THE SCRAP-BAG.... 388 | Pumpkin flour............. 394 
Seymour Pudding.......... 396 
Another treasure........... 395 | Strawberry short-cake...... 396 
Cleansing cream........... 393 | To clean marble........... 394 
For cholera symptoms...... 569'| Welsh rarebit. 2.0.0.2 02... 397 
oO 389 
‘© chapped hands and lips. 392 | PRACTICAL—OR UTOPI- 
** nausea... :.. Winid alsin ale Butea Ne A APOC ou, 5 euch eels 402 
‘¢ gore eyes..... PHOS pat as 393 PARP Ties. curve Seu 
Pr MICOS Ns cfs ge nes a0 OOO 





DR. HOLLAND’S WORKS. 





NICHOLAS MINTURN, Pe he OL ae MRT oS 
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Peete MAG TOPICS, . 5 5 ye 175 
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THE MISTRESS OF THE MANSE; a Poem, ee 150 
"BITTER SWEET; a Poem, . ; A : : I 50 
*KATHRINA; a Poem, ; ; 4 . ° wet 50 
*LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, . . . I 50 
*GOLD FOIL hammered from Popular Proverbs, . Apne Gly 2 
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*PLAIN TALKS on Familiar Subjects, . ° . Ee Sy i 
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Pressman t Ss CAREER, . 2. 4 ew 2 00 
LN USGS 2 a a 
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